THE  HEART  0 


'.ri. 


He's  gainin' !  doggone  my  cats,  he's  gainin' !'  " 


THE  HEART  OF 
HAPPY  HOLLOW 

BY 

PAUL   LAURENCE    DUNBAR 

AUTHOR  OF  "LYRICS  OF  LOWLY 
LIFE,"  "FOLKS  FROM  DIXIE," 
"CANDLE  LIGHTIN'  TIME,"  ETC. 

ILLUSTRATED  BY  E.   W.   KEMBLE 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 
1904 


Copyright,  1904, 

BY 

DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 


EZRA   M.   KUHNS 


FOREWORD 

HAPPY  HOLLOW;  are  you  wondering  where 
it  is?  Wherever  Negroes  colonise  in  the  cities 
or  villages,  north  or  south,  wherever  the  hod 
carrier,  the  porter,  and  the  waiter  are  the 
society  men  of  the  town ;  wherever  the  picnic 
and  the  excursion  are  the  chief  summer  diver 
sion,  and  the  revival  the  winter  time  of 
repentance,  wherever  the  cheese  cloth  veil  ob 
tains  at  a  wedding,  and  the  little  white  hearse 
goes  by  with  black  mourners  in  the  one 
carriage  behind,  there — there — is  Happy 
Hollow.  Wherever  laughter  and  tears  rub 
elbows  day  by  day,  and  the  spirit  of  labour 
and  laziness  shake  hands,  there — there — is 
Happy  Hollow,  and  of  some  of  it  may  the  fol 
lowing  pages  show  the  heart. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  THE  SCAPEGOAT  3 

II  ONE  CHRISTMAS  AT  SHILOH  35 

III  THE  MISSION  OF  MR.  SCATTERS  53 

IV  A  MATTER  OF  DOCTRINE  87 
V  OLD  ABE'S  CONVERSION  105 

VI  THE  RACE  QUESTION  125 

VII  A  DEFENDER  OF  THE  FAITH  133 

VIII  CAHOOTS  145 

IX  THE  PROMOTER  163 

X  THE  WISDOM  OF  SILENCE  191 

XI  THE  TRIUMPH  OF  OL'  Mis'  PEASE  207 

XII  THE  LYNCHING  OF  JUBE  BENSON  223 

•XIII  SCHWALLIGER'S  PHILANTHROPY  243 

XIV  THE  INTERFERENCE  OF  PATSY  ANN  259 

XV  THE  HOME-COMING  OF  'RASTUS  SMITH  277 

XVI  THE  BOY  AND  THE  BAYONET  293 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"'He's  gamin'!  doggone  my  cats, 

he's  gamin' ! '  Frontispiece 

" '  I  don'  see  yo'  back    bowed    so 

much  by  de  yoke  ' '  facing  page  42 

"He  preached  a  powerful  sermon, 
and  at  its  close  told  something 
of  his  life"  "  cc  100 

"  Five  thousand  dollars  was  not  to 

be  carelessly  handled ! "  "        "   1 50 

" c  Say,  if  you  says  de  ain't  no 
Santy  Claus  again,  I'll  punch  yo' 
head'"  "  "  200 

Schwalliger  "        "  250 


THE    SCAPEGOAT 


I 

THE    SCAPEGOAT 


THE  law  is  usually  supposed  to  be 
a  stern  mistress,   not  to  be  lightly 
wooed,  and  yielding  only  to  the  most 
ardent  pursuit.     But  even  law,  like  love,  sits 
more  easily  on  some  natures  than  on  others. 

This  was  the  case  with  Mr.  Robinson 
Asbury.  Mr.  Asbury  had  started  life  as  a 
bootblack  in  the  growing  town  of  Cadgers. 
From  this  he  had  risen  one  step  and  become 
porter  and  messenger  in  a  barber-shop.  This 
rise  fired  his  ambition,  and  he  was  not  content 
until  he  had  learned  to  use  the  shears  and  the 
razor  and  had  a  chair  of  his  own.  From 
this,  in  a  man  of  Robinson's  temperament,  it 
was  only  a  step  to  a  shop  of  his  own,  and 
he  placed  it  where  it  would  do  the  most 
good. 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

Fully  one-half  of  the  population  of  Cadgers 
was  composed  of  Negroes,  and  with  their 
usual  tendency  to  colonise,  a  tendency  encour 
aged,  and  in  fact  compelled,  by  circumstances, 
they  had  gathered  into  one  part  of  the  town. 
Here  in  alleys,  and  streets  as  dirty  and  hardly 
wider,  they  thronged  like  ants. 

It  was  in  this  place  that  Mr.  Asbury  set  up 
his  shop,  and  he  won  the  hearts  of  his  prospec 
tive  customers  by  putting  up  the  significant 
sign,  "Equal  Rights  Barber-Shop."  This 
legend  was  quite  unnecessary,  because  there 
was  only  one  race  about,  to  patronise  the  place. 
But  it  was  a  delicate  sop  to  the  people's  vanity, 
and  it  served  its  purpose. 

Asbury  came  to  be  known  as  a  clever  fellow, 
and  his  business  grew.  The  shop  really  be 
came  a  sort  of  club,  and,  on  Saturday  nights 
especially,  was  the  gathering-place  of  the  men 
of  the  whole  Negro  quarter.  He  kept  the 
illustrated  and  race  journals  there,  and  those 
who  cared  neither  to  talk  nor  listen  to  someone 
else  might  see  pictured  the  doings  of  high 

[4] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

society  in  very  short  skirts  or  read  in  the  Negro 
papers  how  Miss  Boston  had  entertained  Miss 
Blueford  to  tea  on  such  and  such  an  afternoon. 
Also,  he  kept  the  policy  returns,  which  was 
wise,  if  not  moral. 

It  was  his  wisdom  rather  more  than  his 
morality  that  made  the  party  managers  after 
a  while  cast  their  glances  toward  him  as  a  man 
who  might  be  useful  to  their  interests.  It 
wrould  be  well  to  have  a  man — a  shrewd, 
powerful  man — down  in  that  part  of  the  town 
who  could  carry  his  people's  vote  in  his  vest 
pocket,  and  who  at  any  time  its  delivery  might 
be  needed,  could  hand  it  over  without  hesita 
tion.  Asbury  seemed  that  man,  and  they  set 
tled  upon  him.  They  gave  him  money,  and 
they  gave  him  power  and  patronage.  He  took 
it  all  silently  and  he  carried  out  his  bargain 
faithfully.  His  hands  and  his  lips  alike  closed 
tightly  when  there  was  anything  within  them. 
It  was  not  long  before  he  found  himself  the 
big  Negro  of  the  district  and,  of  necessity,  of 
the  town.  The  time  came  when,  at  a  critical 

[5] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

moment,  the  managers  saw  that  they  had  not 
reckoned  without  their  host  in  choosing  this 
barber  of  the  black  district  as  the  leader  of 
his  people. 

Now,  so  much  success  must  have  satisfied 
any  other  man.  But  in  many  ways  Mr. 
Asbury  was  unique.  For  a  long  time  he  him 
self  had  done  very  little  shaving — except  of 
notes,  to  keep  his  hand  in.  His  time  had  been 
otherwise  employed.  In  the  evening  hours 
he  had  been  wooing  the  coquettish  Dame  Law, 
and,  wonderful  to  say,  she  had  yielded  easily 
to  his  advances. 

It  was  against  the  advice  of  his  friends  that 
he  asked  for  admission  to  the  bar.  They  felt 
that  he  could  do  more  good  in  the  place  where 
he  was. 

"  You  see,  Robinson,"  said  old  Judge  Davis, 
"it's  just  like  this:  If  you're  not  admitted, 
it'll  hurt  you  with  the  people ;  if  you  are  ad 
mitted,  you'll  move  uptown  to  an  office  and 
get  out  of  touch  with  them." 

Asbury  smiled  an  inscrutable  smile.  Then 
[6] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW. 

he  whispered  something  into  the  judge's  ear 
that  made  the  old  man  wrinkle  from  his  neck 
up  with  appreciative  smiles. 

"Asbury,"  he  said,  "you  are — you  are — 
well,  you  ought  to  be  white,  that's  all.  When 
we  find  a  black  man  like  you  we  send  him  to 
State's  prison.  If  you  were  white,  you'd  go  to 
the  Senate." 

The  Negro  laughed  confidently. 

He  was  admitted  to  the  bar  soon  after, 
whether  by  merit  or  by  connivance  is  not  to 
be  told. 

"Now  he  will  move  uptown,"  said  the 
black  community.  "  Well,  that's  the  way  with 
a  coloured  man  when  he  gets  a  start." 

But  they  did  not  know  Asbury  Robinson 
yet.  He  was  a  man  of  surprises,  and  they  were 
destined  to  disappointment.  He  did  not  move 
uptown.  He  built  an  office  in  a  small  open 
space  next  his  shop,  and  there  hung  out  his 
shingle. 

"  I  will  never  desert  the  people  who  have 
done  so  much  to  elevate  me,"  said  Mr.  Asbury. 

[7] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"  I  will  live  among  them  and  I  will  die  among 
them." 

This  was  a  strong  card  for  the  barber- 
lawyer.  The  people  seized  upon  the  state 
ment  as  expressing  a  nobility  of  an  altogether 
unique  brand. 

They  held  a  mass  meeting  and  indorsed 
him.  They  made  resolutions  that  extolled 
him,  and  the  Negro  band  came  around  and 
serenaded  him,  playing  various  things  in 
varied  time. 

All  this  was  very  sweet  to  Mr.  Asbury,  and 
the  party  managers  chuckled  with  satisfac 
tion  and  said,  "That  Asbury,  that  Asbury!" 

Now  there  is  a  fable  extant  of  a  man  who 
tried  to  please  everybody,  and  his  failure  is  a 
matter  of  record.  Robinson  Asbury  was  not 
more  successful.  But  be  it  said  that  his  ill 
success  was  due  to  no  fault  or  shortcoming  of 
his. 

For  a  long  time  his  growing  power  had 
been  looked  upon  with  disfavour  by  the  col 
oured  law  firm  of  Bingo  &  Latchett.  Both  Mr. 

[8] 


THE  HEART.  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

Bingo  and  Mr.  Latchett  themselves  aspired 
to  be  Negro  leaders  in  Cadgers,  and  they  were 
delivering  Emancipation  Day  orations  and 
riding  at  the  head  of  processions  when  M$. 
Asbury  was  blacking  boots.  Is  it  any  wonder, 
then,  that  they  viewed  with  alarm  his  sudden 
rise?  They  kept  their  counsel,  however,  and 
treated  with  him,  for  it  was  best.  They 
allowed  him  his  scope  without  open  revolt 
until  the  day  upon  which  he  hung  out  his 
shingle.  This  was  the  last  straw.  They  could 
stand  no  more.  Asbury  had  stolen  their  other 
chances  from  them,  and  now  he  was  poaching 
upon  the  last  of  their  preserves.  So  Mr. 
Bingo  and  Mr.  Latchett  put  their  heads 
together  to  plan  the  downfall  of  their  common 
enemy. 

The  plot  was  deep  and  embraced  the  forma 
tion  of  an  opposing  faction  made  up  of  the 
best  Negroes  of  the  town.  It  would  have 
looked  too  much  like  what  it  was  for  the  gen 
tlemen  to  show  themselves  in  the  matter,  and 
so  they  took  into  their  confidence  Mr.  Isaac 

[9] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

Morton,  the  principal  of  the  coloured  school, 
and  it  was  under  his  ostensible  leadership 
that  the  new  faction  finally  came  into 
being. 

Mr.  Morton  was  really  an  innocent  young 
man,  and  he  had  ideals  which  should  never 
have  been  exposed  to  the  air.  When  the  wily 
confederates  came  to  him  with  their  plan  he 
believed  that  his  worth  had  been  recognised, 
and  at  last  he  was  to  be  what  Nature  destined 
him  for — a  leader. 

The  better  class  of  Negroes — by  that  is 
meant  those  who  were  particularly  envious  of 
Asbury's  success — flocked  to  the  new  man's 
standard.  But  whether  the  race  be  white  or 
black,  political  virtue  is  always  in  a  minority, 
so  Asbury  could  afford  to  smile  at  the  force 
arrayed  against  him. 

The  new  faction  met  together  and  resolved. 
They  resolved,  among  other  things,  that  Mr. 
Asbury  was  an  enemy  to  his  race  and  a  menace 
to  civilisation.  They  decided  that  he  should 
be  abolished;  but,  as  they  couldn't  get  out  an 

[10] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

injunction  against  him,  and  as  he  had  the 
whole  undignified  but  still  voting  black  belt 
behind  him,  he  went  serenely  on  his  way. 

"  They're  after  you  hot  and  heavy,  Asbury," 
said  one  of  his  friends  to  him. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  was  the  reply,  "  they're  after  me, 
but  after  a  while  I'll  get  so  far  away  that 
they'll  be  running  in  front." 

"  It's  all  the  best  people,  they  say." 

"  Yes.  Well,  it's  good  to  be  one  of  the  best 
people,  but  your  vote  only  counts  one  just  the 


same." 


The  time  came,  however,  when  Mr.  As- 
bury's  theory  was  put  to  the  test.  The  Cadger- 
ites  celebrated  the  first  of  January  as  Emanci 
pation  Day.  On  this  day  there  was  a  large 
procession,  with  speechmaking  in  the  after 
noon  and  fireworks  at  night.  It  was  the  cus 
tom  to  concede  the  leadership  of  the  coloured 
people  of  the  town  to  the  man  who  managed 
to  lead  the  procession.  For  two  years  past 
this  honour  had  fallen,  of  course,  to  Robinson 
Asbury,  and  there  had  been  no  disposition  on 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

the  part  of  anybody  to  try  conclusions  with 
him. 

Mr.  Morton's  faction  changed  all  this. 
When  Asbury  went  to  work  to  solicit  contri 
butions  for  the  celebration,  he  suddenly  be 
came  aware  that  he  had  a  fight  upon  his  hands. 
All  the  better-class  Negroes  were  staying  out 
of  it.  The  next  thing  he  knew  was  that  plans 
were  on  foot  for  a  rival  demonstration. 

"Oh,"  he  said  to  himself,  "that's  it,  is  it? 
Well,  if  they  want  a  fight  they  can  have  it." 

He  had  a  talk  with  the  party  managers,  and 
he  had  another  with  Judge  Davis. 

"All  I  want  is  a  little  lift,  judge,"  he  said, 
"  and  I'll  make  'em  think  the  sky  has  turned 
loose  and  is  vomiting  niggers." 

The  judge  believed  that  he  could  do  it.  So 
did  the  party  managers.  Asbury  got  his  lift. 
Emancipation  Day  came. 

There  were  two  parades.  At  least,  there 
was  one  parade  and  the  shadow  of  another. 
Asbury's,  however,  was  not  the  shadow.  There 
was  a  great  deal  of  substance  about  it — sub- 

[12] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

stance  made  up  of  many  people,  many  banners, 
and  numerous  bands.  He  did  not  have  the 
best  people.  Indeed,  among  his  cohorts  there 
were  a  good  many  of  the  pronounced  rag-tag 
and  bobtail.  But  he  had  noise  and  numbers. 
In  such  cases,  nothing  more  is  needed.  The 
success  of  Asbury's  side  of  the  affair  did  every 
thing  to  confirm  his  friends  in  their  good 
opinion  of  him. 

When  he  found  himself  defeated,  Mr.  Silas 
Bingo  saw  that  it  would  be  policy  to  placate 
his  rival's  just  anger  against  him.  He  called 
upon  him  at  his  office  the  day  after  the  cele 
bration. 

"Well,  Asbury,"  he  said,  "you  beat  us, 
didn't  you?" 

"  It  wasn't  a  question  of  beating,"  said  the 
other  calmly.  "  It  was  only  an  inquiry  as  to 
who  were  the  people — the  few  or  the  many." 

"  Well,  it  was  well  done,  and  you've  shown 
that  you  are  a  manager.  I  confess  that  I 
haven't  always  thought  that  you  were  doing 
the  wisest  thing  in  living  down  here  and  cater- 

[13] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

ing  to  this  class  of  people  when  you  might, 
with  your  ability,  to  be  much  more  to  the 
better  class." 

"  What  do  they  base  their  claims  of  being 
better  on?" 

"Oh,  there  ain't  any  use  discussing  that. 
We  can't  get  along  without  you,  we  see  that. 
So  I,  for  one,  have  decided  to  work  with  you 
for  harmony." 

"  Harmony.    Yes,  that's  what  we  want." 

"  If  I  can  do  anything  to  help  you  at  any 
time,  why  you  have  only  to  command  me." 

"  I  am  glad  to  find  such  a  friend  in  you.  Be 
sure,  if  I  ever  need  you,  Bingo,  I'll  call  on 
you." 

"And  I'll  be  ready  to  serve  you." 

Asbury  smiled  when  his  visitor  was  gone. 
He  smiled,  and  knitted  his  brow.  "  I  wonder 
what  Bingo's  got  up  his  sleeve,"  he  said. 
"  He'll  bear  watching." 

It  may  have  been  pride  at  his  triumph,  it 
may  have  been  gratitude  at  his  helpers,  but 
Asbury  went  into  the  ensuing  campaign  with 

[14] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

reckless  enthusiasm.  He  did  the  most  daring 
things  for  the  party's  sake.  Bingo,  true  to  his 
promise,  was  ever  at  his  side  ready  to  serve 
him.  Finally,  association  and  immunity  made 
danger  less  fearsome ;  the  rival  no  longer  ap 
peared  a  menace. 

With  the  generosity  born  of  obstacles  over 
come,  Asbury  determined  to  forgive  Bingo 
and  give  him  a  chance.  He  let  him  in  on  a 
deal,  and  from  that  time  they  worked  amica 
bly  together  until  the  election  came  and 
passed. 

It  was  a  close  election  and  many  things  had 
had  to  be  done,  but  there  were  men  there 
ready  and  waiting  to  do  them.  They  were 
successful,  and  then  the  first  cry  of  the  de 
feated  party  was,  as  usual,  "Fraud!  Fraud!" 
The  cry  was  taken  up  by  the  jealous,  the  dis 
gruntled,  and  the  virtuous. 

Someone  remembered  how  two  years  ago 
the  registration  books  had  been  stolen.  It  was 
known  upon  good  authority  that  money  had 
been  freely  used.  Men  held  up  their  hands 

[15] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

in  horror  at  the  suggestion  that  the  Negro  vote 
had  been  juggled  with,  as  if  that  were  a  new 
thing.  From  their  pulpits  ministers  de 
nounced  the  machine  and  bade  their  hearers 
rise  and  throw  off  the  yoke  of  a  corrupt 
municipal  government.  One  of  those  sudden 
fevers  of  reform  had  taken  possession  of  the 
town  and  threatened  to  destroy  the  successful 
party. 

They  began  to  look  around  them.  They 
must  purify  themselves.  They  must  give  the 
people  some  tangible  evidence  of  their  own 
yearnings  after  purity.  They  looked  around 
them  for  a  sacrifice  to  lay  upon  the  altar  of 
municipal  reform.  Their  eyes  fell  upon  Mr. 
Bingo.  No,  he  was  not  big  enough.  His  blood 
was  too  scant  to  wash  away  the  political  stains. 
Then  they  looked  into  each  other's  eyes  and 
turned  their  gaze  away  to  let  it  fall  upon  Mr. 
Asbury.  They  really  hated  to  do  it.  But  there 
must  be  a  scapegoat.  The  god  from  the 
Machine  commanded  them  to  slay  him. 

Robinson  Asbury  was  charged  with  many 
[16] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

crimes — with  all  that  he  had  committed  and 
some  that  he  had  not.  When  Mr.  Bingo  saw 
what  was  afoot  he  threw  himself  heart  and 
soul  into  the  work  of  his  old  rival's  enemies. 
He  was  of  incalculable  use  to  them. 

Judge  Davis  refused  to  have  anything  to  do 
with  the  matter.  But  in  spite  of  his  disap 
proval  it  went  on.  Asbury  was  indicted  and 
tried.  The  evidence  was  all  against  him,  and 
no  one  gave  more  damaging  testimony  than 
his  friend,  Mr.  Bingo.  The  judge's  charge 
was  favourable  to  the  defendant,  but  the  cur 
rent  of  popular  opinion  could  not  be  entirely 
stemmed.  The  jury  brought  in  a  verdict  of 
guilty. 

"  Before  I  am  sentenced,  judge,  I  have  a 
statement  to  make  to  the  court.  It  will  take 
less  than  ten  minutes." 

"  Go  on,  Robinson,"  said  the  judge  kindly. 

Asbury  started,  in  a  monotonous  tone,  a  re 
cital  that  brought  the  prosecuting  attorney  to 
his  feet  in  a  minute.  The  judge  waved  him 
down,  and  sat  transfixed  by  a  sort  of  fascinated 
[17] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

horror  as  the  convicted  man  went  on.  The 
before-mentioned  attorney  drew  a  knife  and 
started  for  the  prisoner's  dock.  With  diffi 
culty  he  was  restrained.  A  dozen  faces  in  the 
court-room  were  red  and  pale  by  turns. 

"He  ought  to  be  killed,"  whispered  Mr. 
Bingo  audibly. 

Robinson  Asbury  looked  at  him  and  smiled, 
and  then  he  told  a  few  things  of  him.  He 
gave  the  ins  and  outs  of  some  of  the  misde 
meanours  of  which  he  stood  accused.  He 
showed  who  were  the  men  behind  the  throne. 
And  still,  pale  and  transfixed,  Judge  Davis 
waited  for  his  own  sentence. 

Never  were  ten  minutes  so  well  taken  up. 
It  was  a  tale  of  rottenness  and  corruption  in 
high  places  told  simply  and  with  the  stamp  of 
truth  upon  it. 

He  did  not  mention  the  judge's  name.  But 
he  had  torn  the  mask  from  the  face  of  every 
other  man  who  had  been  concerned  in  his 
downfall.  They  had  shorn  him  of  his  strength, 
but  they  had  forgotten  that  he  was  yet  able 

[18] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

to  bring  the  roof  and  pillars  tumbling  about 
their  heads. 

The  judge's  voice  shook  as  he  pronounced 
sentence  upon  his  old  ally — a  year  in  State's 
prison. 

Some  people  said  it  was  too  light,  but  the 
judge  knew  what  it  was  to  wait  for  the  sen 
tence  of  doom,  and  he  was  grateful  and  sym 
pathetic. 

When  the  sheriff  led  Asbury  away  the  judge 
hastened  to  have  a  short  talk  with  him. 

"  I'm  sorry,  Robinson,"  he  said,  "  and  I 
want  to  tell  you  that  you  were  no  more  guilty 
than  the  rest  of  us.  But  why  did  you  spare 


me?" 


"  Because  I  knew  you  were  my  friend," 
answered  the  convict. 

"  I  tried  to  be,  but  you  were  the  first  man 
that  I've  ever  known  since  I've  been  in  poli 
tics  who  ever  gave  me  any  decent  return  for 
friendship." 

"  I  reckon  you're  about  right,  judge." 

In  politics,  party  reform  usually  lies  in 
[19] 


THE  HEART.  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

making  a  scapegoat  of  someone  who  is  only 
as  criminal  as  the  rest,  but  a  little  weaker. 
Asbury's  friends  and  enemies  had  succeeded 
in  making  him  bear  the  burden  of  all  the 
party's  crimes,  but  their  reform  was  hardly  a 
success,  and  their  protestations  of  a  change  of 
heart  were  received  with  doubt.  Already 
there  were  those  who  began  to  pity  the  victim 
and  to  say  that  he  had  been  hardly  dealt  with. 
Mr.  Bingo  was  not  of  these;  but  he  found, 
strange  to  say,  that  his  opposition  to  the  idea 
went  but  a  little  way,  and  that  even  with  As- 
bury  out  of  his  path  he  was  a  smaller  man  than 
he  was  before.  Fate  was  strong  against  him. 
His  poor,  prosperous  humanity  could  not 
enter  the  lists  against  a  martyr.  Robinson 
Asbury  was  now  a  martyr. 

II 

A  year  is  not  a  long  time.  It  was  short 
enough  to  prevent  people  from  forgetting 
Robinson,  and  yet  long  enough  for  their  pity 
to  grow  strong  as  they  remembered.  Indeed, 

[20] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

he  was  not  gone  a  year.  Good  behaviour  cut 
two  months  off  the  time  of  his  sentence,  and 
by  the  time  people  had  come  around  to  the 
notion  that  he  was  really  the  greatest  and 
smartest  man  in  Cadgers  he  was  at  home 
again. 

He  came  back  with  no  flourish  of  trumpets, 
but  quietly,  humbly.  He  went  back  again  into 
the  heart  of  the  black  district.  His  business 
had  deteriorated  during  his  absence,  but  he 
put  new  blood  and  new  life  into  it.  He  did 
not  go  to  work  in  the  shop  himself,  but,  taking 
down  the  shingle  that  had  swung  idly  before 
his  office  door  during  his  imprisonment,  he 
opened  the  little  room  as  a  news-  and  cigar- 
stand. 

Here  anxious,  pitying  custom  came  to  him 
and  he  prospered  again*  He  was  very  quiet. 
Uptown  hardly  knew  that  he  was  again  in 
Cadgers,  and  it  knew  nothing  whatever  of  his 
doings. 

"  I  wonder  why  Asbury  is  so  quiet,"  they 
said  to  one  another.  "  It  isn't  like  him  to  be 

[21] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

quiet."  And  they  felt  vaguely  uneasy  about 
him. 

So  many  people  had  begun  to  say,  "Well, 
he  was  a  mighty  good  fellow  after  all." 

Mr.  Bingo  expressed  the  opinion  that  As- 
bury  was  quiet  because  he  was  crushed,  but 
others  expressed  doubt  as  to  this.  There  are 
calms  and  calms,  some  after  and  some  before 
the  storm.  Which  was  this? 

They  waited  a  while,  and,  as  no  storm  came, 
concluded  that  this  must  be  the  after-quiet. 
Bingo,  reassured,  volunteered  to  go  and  seek 
confirmation  of  this  conclusion. 

He  went,  and  Asbury  received  him  with  an 
indifferent,  not  to  say,  impolite,  demeanour. 

"Well,  we're  glad  to  see  you  back,  Asbury," 
said  Bingo  patronisingly.  He  had  variously 
demonstrated  his  inability  to  lead  during  his 
rival's  absence  and  was  proud  of  it.  "  What 
are  you  going  to  do?  " 

"  I'm  going  to  work." 

"  That's  right.  I  reckon  you'll  stay  out  of 
politics." 

[22] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"What  could  I  do  even  if  I  went  in?" 
"Nothing  now,   of   course;   but  I   didn't 
know- 
He  did  not  see  the  gleam  in  Asbury's  half 
shut  eyes.    He  only  marked  his  humility,  and 
he  went  back  swelling  with  the  news. 

"  Completely  crushed — all  the  run  taken 
out  of  him,"  was  his  report 

The  black  district  believed  this,  too,  and  a 
sullen,  smouldering  anger  took  possession  of 
them.  Here  was  a  good  man  ruined.  Some 
of  the  people  whom  he  had  helped  in  his  for 
mer  days — some  of  the  rude,  coarse  people  of 
the  low  quarter  who  were  still  sufficiently  un 
enlightened  to  be  grateful — talked  among 
themselves  and  offered  to  get  up  a  demonstra 
tion  for  him.  But  he  denied  them.  No,  he 
wanted  nothing  of  the  kind.  It  would  only 
bring  him  into  unfavourable  notice.  All  he 
wanted  was  that  they  would  always  be  his 
friends  and  would  stick  by  him. 
They  would  to  the  death. 
There  were  again  two  factions  in  Cadgers. 
[23] 


THE  HEART,  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

The  schoolmaster  could  not  forget  how  once 
on  a  time  he  had  been  made  a  tool  of  by  Mr. 
Bingo.  So  he  revolted  against  his  rule  and  set 
himself  up  as  the  leader  of  an  opposing  clique. 
The  fight  had  been  long  and  strong,  but 
had  ended  with  odds  slightly  in  Bingo's 
favour. 

But  Mr.  Morton  did  not  despair.  As  the 
first  of  January  and  Emancipation  Day  ap 
proached,  he  arrayed  his  hosts,  and  the  fight 
for  supremacy  became  fiercer  than  ever.  The 
schoolteacher  is  giving  you  a  pretty  hard 
brought  the  school-children  in  for  chorus 
singing,  secured  an  able  orator,  and  the  best 
essayist  in  town.  With  all  this,  he  was  formi 
dable. 

Mr.  Bingo  knew  that  he  had  the  fight  of 
his  life  on  his  hands,  and  he  entered  with  fear 
as  well  as  zest.  He,  too,  found  an  orator,  but 
he  was  not  sure  that  he  was  as  good  as  Mor 
ton's.  There  was  no  doubt  but  that  his  essayist 
was  not.  He  secured  a  band,  but  still  he  felt 
unsatisfied.  He  had  hardly  done  enough,  and 

[24]  ' 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

for  the  schoolmaster  to  beat  him  now  meant 
his  political  destruction. 

It  was  in  this  state  of  mind  that  he  was  sur 
prised  to  receive  a  visit  from  Mr.  Asbury. 

"  I  reckon  you're  surprised  to  see  me  here," 
said  Asbury,  smiling. 

"  I  am  pleased,  I  know."    Bingo  was  astute. 

"Well,  I  just  dropped  in  on  business." 

"  To  be  sure,  to  be  sure,  Asbury.  What  can 
I  do  for  you?" 

"  It's  more  what  I  can  do  for  you  tHat  I 
came  to  talk  about,"  was  the  reply. 

"  I  don't  believe  I  understand  you." 

"  Well,  it's  plain  enough.  They  say  that  the 
school-teacher  is  giving  you  a  pretty  hard 
fight." 

"  Oh,  not  so  hard." 

"No  man  can  be  too  sure  of  winning, 
though.  Mr.  Morton  once  did  me  a  mean 
turn  when  he  started  the  faction  against  me." 

Bingo's  heart  gave  a  great  leap,  and  then 
stopped  for  the  fraction  of  a  second. 

"You  were  in  it,  of  course,"  pursued  As- 
[25] 


THE  HEART,  OR  HAPPY,  HOLLOW 

bury,  "but  I  can  look  over  your  part  in  it  in 
order  to  get  even  with  the  man  who  started  it." 

It  was  true,  then,  thought  Bingo  gladly.  He 
did  not  know.  He  wanted  revenge  for  his 
wrongs  and  upon  the  wrong  man.  How  well 
the  schemer  had  covered  his  tracks!  Asbury 
should  have  his  revenge  and  Morton  would  be 
the  sufferer. 

"  Of  course,  Asbury,  you  know  what  I  did 
I  did  innocently." 

"Oh,  yes,  in  politics  we  are  all  lambs  and 
the  wolves  are  only  to  be  found  in  the  other 
party.  We'll  pass  that,  though.  What  I  want 
to  say  is  that  I  can  help  you  to  make  your  cele 
bration  an  overwhelming  success.  I  still  have 
some  influence  down  in  my  district." 

"Certainly,  and  very  justly,  too.  Why,  I 
should  be  delighted  with  your  aid.  I  could 
give  you  a  prominent  place  in  the  procession." 

"  I  don't  want  it;  I  don't  want  to  appear  in 
this  at  all.  All  I  want  is  revenge.  You  can 
have  all  the  credit,  but  let  me  down  my 


enemy." 


[26] 


THE  HEART,  OF  HAPPY,  HOLLOW 

Bingo  was  perfectly  willing,  and,  with  their 
heads  close  together,  they  had  a  long  and  close 
consultation.  When  Asbury  was  gone,  Mr. 
Bingo  lay  back  in  his  chair  and  laughed.  "  I'm 
a  slick  duck,"  he  said. 

From  that  hour  Mr.  Bingo's  cause  began  to 
take  on  the  appearance  of  something  very  like 
a  boom.  More  bands  were  hired.  The  in 
terior  of  the  State  was  called  upon  and  a  more 
eloquent  orator  secured.  The  crowd  hastened 
to  array  itself  on  the  growing  side. 

With  surprised  eyes,  the  schoolmaster  be 
held  the  wonder  of  it,  but  he  kept  to  his  own 
purpose  with  dogged  insistence,  even  when  he 
saw  that  he  could  not  turn  aside  the  over 
whelming  defeat  that  threatened  him.  But  in 
spite  of  his  obstinacy,  his  hours  were  dark  and 
bitter.  Asbury  wrorked  like  a  mole,  all  under 
ground,  but  he  was  indefatigable.  Two  days 
before  the  celebration  time  everything  was 
perfected  for  the  biggest  demonstration  that 
Cadgers  had  ever  known.  All  the  next  day 
and  night  he  was  busy  among  his  allies. 

[27! 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

On  the  morning  of  the  great  day,  Mr. 
Bingo,  wonderfully  caparisoned,  rode  down 
to  the  hall  where  the  parade  was  to  form.  He 
was  early.  No  one  had  yet  come.  In  an 
hour  a  score  of  men  all  told  had  collected. 
Another  hour  passed,  and  no  more  had  come. 
Then  there  smote  upon  his  ear  the  sound  of 
music.  They  were  coming  at  last.  Bring 
ing  his  sword  to  his  shoulder,  he  rode  forward 
to  the  middle  of  the  street.  Ah,  there  they 
were.  But — but — could  he  believe  his  eyes? 
They  were  going  in  another  direction,  and  at 
their  head  rode — Morton!  He  gnashed  his 
teeth  in  fury.  He  had  been  led  into  a  trap 
and  betrayed.  The  procession  passing  had 
been  his — all  his.  He  heard  them  cheering, 
and  then,  oh!  climax  of  infidelity,  he  saw  his 
own  orator  go  past  in  a  carnage,  bowing  and 
smiling  to  the  crowd. 

There  was  no  doubting  who  had  done  this 
thing.  The  hand  of  Asbury  was  apparent  in 
it.  He  must  have  known  the  truth  all  along, 
thought  Bingo.  His  allies  left  him  one  by; 

[28] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

one  for  the  other  hall,  and  he  rode  home  in  a 
humiliation  deeper  than  he  had  ever  known 
before. 

Asbury  did  not  appear  at  the  celebration. 
He  was  at  his  little  news-stand  all  day. 

In  a  day  or  two  the  defeated  aspirant  had 
further  cause  to  curse  his  false  friend.  He 
found  that  not  only  had  the  people  defected 
from  him,  but  that  the  thing  had  been  so 
adroitly  managed  that  he  appeared  to  be  in 
fault,  and  three-fourths  of  those  who  knew 
him  were  angry  at  some  supposed  grievance. 
His  cup  of  bitterness  was  full  when  his  part 
ner,  a  quietly  ambitious  man,  suggested  that 
they  dissolve  their  relations. 

His  ruin  was  complete. 

The  lawyer  was  not  alone  in  seeing  Asbury's 
hand  in  his  downfall.  The  party  managers 
saw  it  too,  and  they  met  together  to  discuss 
the  dangerous  factor  which,  while  it  appeared 
to  slumber,  was  so  terribly  awake.  They  de 
cided  that  he  must  be  appeased,  and  they 
visited  him. 

[29] 


THE  HEART,  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

He  was  still  busy  at  his  news-stand.  They 
talked  to  him  adroitly,  while  he  sorted  papers 
and  kept  an  impassive  face.  When  they  were 
all  done,  he  looked  up  for  a  moment  and  re 
plied,  "  You  know,  gentlemen,  as  an  ex-convict 
I  am  not  in  politics." 

Some  of  them  had  the  grace  to  flush. 

"  But  you  can  use  your  influence,"  they  said. 

"  I  am  not  in  politics,"  was  his  only  reply. 

And  the  spring  elections  were  coming  on. 
Well,  they  worked  hard,  and  he  showed  no 
sign.  He  treated  with  neither  one  party  nor 
the  other.  "  Perhaps,"  thought  the  managers, 
"he  is  out  of  politics,"  and  they  grew  more 
confident. 

It  was  nearing  eleven  o'clock  on  the  morn 
ing  of  election  when  a  cloud  no  bigger  than  a 
man's  hand  appeared  upon  the  horizon.  It 
came  from  the  direction  of  the  black  district. 
It  grew,  and  the  managers  of  the  party  in 
power  looked  at  it,  fascinated  by  an  ominous 
dread.  Finally  it  began  to  rain  Negro  voters, 
and  as  one  man  they  voted  against  their  former 

[30] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

candidates.  Their  organisation  was  perfect. 
They  simply  came,  voted,  and  left,  but  they 
overwhelmed  everything.  Not  one  of  the 
party  that  had  damned  Robinson  Asbury  was 
left  in  power  save  old  Judge  Davis.  His  ma 
jority  was  overwhelming. 

The  generalship  that  had  engineered  the 
thing  was  perfect.  There  were  loud  threats 
against  the  newsdealer.  But  no  one  bothered 
him  except  a  reporter.  The  reporter  called 
to  see  just  how  it  was  done.  He  found  As 
bury  very  busy  sorting  papers.  To  the  news 
paper  man's  questions  he  had  only  this  reply, 
"  I  am  not  in  politics,  sir." 

But  Cadgers  had  learned  its  lesson. 


[31] 


ONE    CHRISTMAS   AT   SHILOH 


II 

ONE    CHRISTMAS    AT   SHILOH 

MARTHA  MARIA  MIXON  was 
a   "widder  lady."       So  she   de 
scribed  herself  whenever  anyone 
asked  her  as  to  her  status  in  life.     To  her  more 
intimate  friends  she  confided  that  she  was  not 
a  "weed  widder,"  but  one  of  the  "grass" 
variety.    The  story  of  how  her  husband,  Mad 
ison,  had  never  been  "  No  'count,  even  befo'  de 
wah,"  and  of  his  rapid  degeneration  there 
after,  was  vividly  told. 

"  De  fact  of  de  mattah  is,"  Mrs.  Mixon  was 
wont  to  say,  "my  man,  Madison,  was  nevah 
no  han'  to  wo'k.  He  was  de  settin'-downest 
man  you  evah  seed.  Hit  wouldn't  'a'  been  so 
bad,  but  Madison  was  a  lakly  man,  an'  his 
tongue  wah  smoothah  dan  ile;  so  hit  t'wan't 
no  shakes  fu'  him  to  fool  ol'  Mas'  'bout  his 
wo'k  an'  git  erlong  des  erbout  ez  he  pleased. 

[35] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

Mas'  Madison  Mixon,  hisse'f,  was  a  mighty 
'dulgent  so't  o'  man,  an'  he  liked  a  laugh  bet- 
tah  dan  anyone  in  de  woiT.  Well,  my  man 
could  mek  him  laugh,  an'  dat  was  enough  fu' 
him.  I  used  to  lectuah  dat  man  much  'bout 
his  onshifless  ways,  but  he  des  went  erlong, 
twell  bimeby  hyeah  come  de  wah  an'  evah- 
thing  was  broke  up.  Den  w'en  hit  come  time 
dat  Madison  had  to  scramble  fu'  hisself,  dey 
wa'nt  no  scramble  in  him.  He  des'  wouldn't 
wo'k  an'  I  had  to  do  evahthing.  He  allus  had 
what  he  called  some  gret  scheme,  but  deh 
nevah  seemed  to  come  to  nuffin,  an'  once  when 
he  got  de  folks  to  put  some  money  in  somep'n' 
dat  broke  up,  dey  come  put'  nigh  tahin'  an' 
featherin'  him.  Finally,  I  des  got  morchully 
tiahed  o'  dat  man's  ca'in'  on,  an'  I  say  to  him 
one  day,  *  Madison,'  I  say,  '  I'm  tiahed  of  all 
dis  foo'ishness,  an'  I'm  gwine  up  Norf  whaih 
I  kin  live  an'  be  somebody.  Ef  evah  you  mek 
a  man  out  o'  yo'se'f,  an'  want  me,  de  Bible  say 
1  Seek  an'  you  shell  receive.'-  Cause  even  den  I 
was  a  mighty  han'  to  c'ote  de  Scripters.  Well, 

[36] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

I  lef '  him,  an'  Norf  I  come,  'dough  it  jes'  nigh 
broke  my  hea't,  fu'  I  sho  did  love  dat  black 
man.  De  las'  thing  I  hyeahed  o'  him,  he  had 
des  learned  to  read  an'  write  an'  wah  runnin' 
fu'  de  Legislater  'twell  de  Klu  Klux  got  aftah 
him;  den  I  think  he  'signed  de  nomernation." 

This  was  Martha's  story,  and  the  reason 
that  there  was  no  Mr.  Mixon  with  her  when 
she  came  North,  drifted  from  place  to  place 
and  finally  became  one  of  New  York's  large 
black  contingent  from  the  South.  To  her  the 
lessons  of  slavery  had  not  been  idle  ones.  In 
dustrious,  careful,  and  hard-working,  she  soon 
became  prosperous,  and  when,  hunting  a  spir 
itual  home  she  settled  upon  Shiloh  Chapel,  she 
was  welcomed  there  as  a  distinct  addition  to 
the  large  and  active  membership. 

Shiloh  was  not  one  of  the  fashionable 
churches  of  the  city,  but  it  was  primarily  a 
church  home  for  any  Southern  negro,  for  in 
it  were  representatives  of  every  one  of  the  old 
slaveholding  States.  Its  pastor  was  one  of 
those  who  had  not  yet  got  beyond  the  belief 

[37] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

that  any  temporal  preparation  for  the  preach 
ing  of  the  Gospel  was  unnecessary.  It  was 
still  his  firm  trust,  and  often  his  boast,  that  if 
one  opened  his  mouth  the  Lord  would  fill  it, 
and  it  grew  to  be  a  settled  idea  that  the  Lord 
filled  his  acceptably,  for  his  converts  were 
many  and  his  congregation  increased. 

The  Rev.  Silas  Todbury's  education  may 
have  been  deficient  in  other  matters,  but  one 
thing  he  knew,  and  knew  thoroughly — the  dis 
position  of  his  people.  He  knew  just  what 
weaknesses,  longings,  and  desires  their  recent 
bondage  had  left  with  them,  and  with  admir 
able  shrewdness  contrived  to  meet  them.  He 
knew  that  in  preaching  they  wanted  noise, 
emotion,  and  fire;  that  in  the  preacher  they 
wanted  free-heartedness  and  cordiality.  He 
knew  that  when  Christmas  came  they  wanted 
a  great  rally,  somewhat  approaching,  at  least, 
the  rousing  times  both  spiritual  and  temporal 
that  they  had  had  back  on  the  old  plantation, 
when  Christmas  meant  a  week  of  pleasurable 
excitement.  Knowing  the  last  so  well,  it  was 

[38] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

with  commendable  foresight  that  he  began 
early  his  preparations  for  a  big  time  on  a  cer 
tain  Christmas  not  long  ago. 

"  I  tell  you  people,"  he  said  to  his  congrega 
tion,  "  we's  goin'  to  have  a  regular  '  Benjamin's 


mess'!" 


The  coloured  folk,  being  not  quite  sure  of 
the  quotation,  laughed  heartily,  exclaiming  in 
admiration  of  their  pastor,  "  Dat  Todbu'y  is 
sholy  one  mess  hisse'f." 

"  Now  any  of  de  sistahs  dat's  willin'  to  he'p 
mek  dis  comin'  Chris'mus  a  real  sho  'nougH 
one,  '11  'blige  me  by  meetin'  me  in  de  basement 
of  de  chu'ch  aftah  services.  De  brothahs  kin 
go  'long  home  'twell  dey  called  fu'." 

There  was  another  outburst  of  merriment  at 
this  sally,  and  it  was  a  good-natured  score  or 
more  of  sisters  who  a  little  later  met  the  pastor 
as  agreed.  Among  them  was  Martha  Maria 
Mixon,  for  she  was  very  close  to  her  pastor, 
and  for  many  a  day  had  joyed  his  clerical 
heart  with  special  dinners. 

"Ah,"  said  the  preacher,  rubbing  his  hands, 
[39] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"  Sistah  Marthy,  I  see  you's  on  ban'  ez  usual 
to  he'p  me  out,  an'  you,  too,  Sis  Jinny,  an'  Sis 
Dicey,"  he  added,  quick  to  note  the  signs  of 
any  incipient  jealousy,  and  equally  ready  to 
check  it.  "  We's  all  hyeah,  de  faithful  few,  an' 
we's  all  ready  fu'  wo'k." 

The  sisters  beamed  and  nodded, 
"Well,  we  goin'  to  have  some'p'n  evah 
night,  beginnin'  wid  Chris'mus  night, 
straight  on  endurin'  of  de  week,  an'  I  want  to 
separate  you  all  into  companies  fu'  to  take 
chawge  of  each  night.  Now,  I's  a-goin'  to 
have  a  powahful  preachah  f'om  de  Souf  wid 
us,  an'  I  want  you  all  to  show  him  what  we  kin 
do.  On  Chris'mus  day  we  goin'  to  have  a 
sermont  at  de  chu'ch  an'  a  festabal  in  de  even- 
in'  wid  a  Chris'mus  tree.  Sis'  Marthy,  I 
want  you  to  boa'd  de  minister." 

"  La,  Brothah  Todbu'y,  I  don't  scarcely  feel 
lak  I's  'portant  'nough  fu'  dat,"  said  Mrs. 
Mixon  modestly,  "  but  I'll  do  de  bes'  I  kin. 
I  hatter  be  lak  de  widder's  mice  in  de  scuse  o' 
meal." 

[40] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"  We  ain't  got  no  doubt  'bout  what  you  able 
to  do,  Sis  Marthy,"  and  the  pastor  passed  to 
the  appointment  of  his  other  committees.  Af 
ter  evening  services  the  brothers  were  simi 
larly  called  in  consultation  and  appointed  to 
their  respective  duties. 

To  the  black  people  to  whom  these  respon 
sibilities  were  thus  turned  over,  joy  came,  and 
with  it  the  vision  of  other  days — the  vision  of 
the  dear  old  days,  the  hard  old  days  back  there 
in  the  South,  when  they  had  looked  forward 
to  their  Christmas  from  year  to  year.  Then 
it  had  been  a  time  of  sadness  as  well  as  of  joy, 
for  they  knew  that  though  the  week  was  full 
of  pleasure,  after  it  was  over  must  come  sep 
aration  and  sadness.  For  this  was  the  time 
when  those  who  were  to  be  hired  out,  loaned, 
or  given  away,  were  to  change  their  homes. 
So  even  while  they  danced  they  sighed,  and 
while  they  shouted  they  moaned.  Now 
there  was  no  such  repressing  fact  to  daunt 
them.  Christmas  would  come.  They  would 
enjoy  themselves,  and  after  it  was  over  would 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

go  back  to  the  same  homes  to  live  through  the 
round  of  months  in  the  midst  of  familiar  faces 
and  among  their  own  old  loved  ones.  The 
thought  gave  sweetness  to  their  labour,  and  the 
responsibilities  devolving  upon  them  imbued 
the  sacred  holiday  with  a  meaning  and  charm 
that  it  had  never  had  before  for  them.  They 
bubbled  over  with  importance  and  with  the 
glory  of  it.  A  sister  and  a  brother  could  not 
meet  without  a  friendly  banter. 

"Hi,  Sis'  Dicey,"  Brother  Williams  would 
call  out  across  the  fence  to  his  neighbour,  "  I 
don'  believe  you  doin'  anything  to'ds  dat 
Chris'mus  celebration.  Evah  time  I  sees 
you,  you's  in  de  washtub  tryin'  to  mek  braid 
an'  meat  fo'  dat  no  'count  man  o'  yo'n." 

Sister  Dicey's  laugh  rang  out  loud  and 
musical  before  she  replied,  "  Nevah  you  min', 
Brothah  Williams.  I  don'  see  yo'  back 
bowed  so  much  by  de  yoke." 

"Oh,  honey,  I's  labo'in'  even  ef  you  do'n 
know  it,  but  you'll  see  it  on  de  day." 

"  I  'low  you  labo'in'  de  mos'  to  git  dat  wife 
[42] 


s  I  don'  see  yo'  back  bowed  so  much   by  de  yoke.' ' 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

o'  yo'n  a  new  dress,"  and  her  tormentor's  guf 
faw  seemed  to  admit  some  such  benevolent 
intention. 

In  the  corners  of  every  house  where  the 
younger  and  more  worldly-minded  people 
congregated  there  was  much  whispering  and 
giggling,  for  they  had  their  own  plans  for 
Christmas  outside  of  the  church  affair. 

"  You  goin'  to  give  me  de  pleasure  of  yo' 
comp'ny  to  de  dance  aftah  de  festabal?"  some 
ardent  and  early  swain  would  murmur  to  his 
lady  love,  and  the  wThisper  would  fly  back  in 
well-feigned  affright,  "  Heish,  man,  you  want 
to  have  Brothah  Todbu'y  chu'chin'  me?  "  But 
if  the  swrain  persisted,  there  was  little  chance 
of  his  being  ultimately  refused.  So  the 
world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil  kept  pace  with 
the  things  of  the  spirit  in  the  great  prepar 
ation. 

Meanwhile  Martha  Maria  Mixon  went 
her  own  way,  working  hard,  fixing  and  ob 
serving.  She  had  determined  to  excel  her 
self  this  time,  and  not  only  should  her  part 

[43] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

at  the  church  be  above  reproach,  but  the  en 
tertainment  which  she  would  give  that  strange 
preacher  would  be  a  thing  long  to  be  remem 
bered.  And  so,  almost  startled  at  all 
that  Shiloh  was  preparing  for  his  reception, 
hoary  Christmas  approached. 

All  New  York  was  a  dazzling  bazar 
through  which  the  people  thronged  cease 
lessly,  tumultuously.  Everyone  was  a  child 
again;  holly  wreaths  with  the  red  berries 
gleaming  amid  the  green  were  everywhere, 
and  the  white  streets  were  gay  with  laughter 
and  bustle  and  life. 

On  the  night  before  the  great  day  Martha 
sat  before  her  fire  and  hummed  softly  to  her 
self.  There  was  a  smile  upon  her  face,  for 
she  had  worked  and  worked  well,  and  now 
all  was  ready  and  to  her  entire  satisfaction. 
Something  which  shall  be  nameless  simmered 
in  a  tin  cup  on  the  back  of  the  stove  before 
her,  and  every  now  and  then  she  broke  her 
reverie  to  sip  of  it.  It  smelled  sweet  and 
pungent  and  suspicious,  but,  then — this  was 

[44] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

Christmas  Eve.  She  was  half  drowsing 
when  a  brisk  knock  startled  her  into  wakeful- 
ness.  Thinking  it  was  one  of  the  neighbours 
in  for  a  call  she  bade  the  visitor  enter,  with 
out  moving.  There  was  a  stamping  of  feet, 
and  the  door  opened  and  a  black  man  covered 
with  snow  stood  before  her.  He  said  noth 
ing.  Martha  rubbed  her  eyes  and  stared  at 
him,  and  then  she  looked  at  the  cup  accus 
ingly,  and  from  it  back  to  the  man.  Then 
she  rubbed  her  eyes  again. 

"Wha — wha "   she   stammered,   rising 

slowly. 

"Don'  you  know  me,  Marthy,  don'  you 
know  me;  an'  don'  you  want  to  see  yo' 
husban'?" 

" Madison  Mixon,  is  dat  you  in  de  flesh?" 

"It's  me,  Marthy;  you  tol'  me  ef  evah  I 
made  a  man  o'  myse'f,  to  seek  you.  It's  been 
a  long  road,  but  I's  tried  faithful." 

All  the  memories  of  other  days  came  rush 
ing  over  Martha  in  an  overwhelming  flood. 
In  one  moment  everything  was  forgotten  save 

[45] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

that  here  stood  her  long  delinquent  husband. 
She  threw  out  her  arms  and  took  a  step  to 
ward  him,  but  he  anticipated  her  further 
advance  and  rushing  to  her  clasped  her  ample 
form  in  a  close  embrace. 

"You  will  tek  me  back!"  he  cried,  "you 
will  fu'give  me!" 

"Yes,  yes,  of  co'se,  I  will,  Ma'dison,  ef  you 
has  made  a  man  of  yo'se'f." 

"  I  hopes  to  prove  dat  to  you." 

It  was  a  very  pleasant  evening  that  they 
spent  together,  and  like  old  times  to  Martha. 
Never  once  did  it  occur  to  her  that  this  sudden 
finding  of  a  husband  might  be  awkward  on 
the  morrow  when  the  visitor  came  to  dinner. 
Nor  did  she  once  suspect  that  Madison  might 
be  up  to  one  of  his  old  tricks.  She  accepted 
him  for  just  what  he  said  he  was  and  intended 
to  be. 

Her  first  doubt  came  the  next  morning 
when  she  began  to  hurry  her  preparations  for 
church.  Madison  had  been  fumbling  in  his 
carpet  bag  and  was  already  respectably 

[46] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

dressed.  His  wife  looked  at  him  approv 
ingly,  but  the  glance  turned  to  one  of  con 
sternation  when  he  stammered  forth  that  he 
had  to  go  out,  as  he  had  some  business  to 
attend  to. 

"  What,  on  de  ve'y  fust  day  you  hyeah,  ain't 
you  goin'  to  chu'ch  wid  me?" 

"  De  business  is  mighty  pressing  but  I  hopes 
to  see  you  at  chu'ch  by  de  time  de  services 
begin.  Waih  does  you  set?"  His  hand  was 
on  the  door. 

Martha  sank  into  a  chair  and  the  tears  came 
to  her  eyes,  but  she  choked  them  back.  She 
would  not  let  him  see  how  much  she  was  hurt. 
She  told  him  in  a  faltering  voice  where  she 
sat,  and  he  passed  out.  Then  her  tears  came 
and  flooded  away  the  last  hope.  She  had 
been  so  proud  to  think  that  she  would  walk  to 
church  with  her  husband  that  morning  for  the 
first  time  in  so  long  a  while,  and  now  it  was 
all  over.  For  a  little  while  she  thought  that 
she  would  not  go,  and  then  the  memory  of  all 
the  preparations  she  had  made  and  of  the 

[47] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

new  minister  came  to  her,  and  she  went  on 
with  her  dressing. 

The  church  was  crowded  that  morning 
when  Martha  arrived.  She  looked  around 
in  vain  for  some  sight  of  Madison,  but  she 
could  see  nothing  of  him,  and  so  she  sank  into 
her  seat  with  a  sigh.  She  could  just  see  the 
new  minister  drooping  in  his  seat  behind  the 
reading  desk.  He  was  evidently  deep  in 
meditation,  for  he  did  not  get  up  during  the 
hymn. 

Then  Martha  heard  the  Rev.  Silas  Tod- 
bury  speaking.  His  words  did  not  affect  her 
until  she  found  that  the  whole  of  his  closing 
sentence  was  flashing  through  her  brain  like 
a  flame.  "We  will  now  be  exho'ted  by  de 
Reverent  Madison  Mixon." 

She  couldn't  believe  her  ears,  but  stared 
wildly  at  the  pulpit  where  the  new  preacher 
stood.  It  was  Madison.  Her  first  impulse 
was  to  rise  in  her  seat  and  stop  him.  It  was 
another  of  his  tricks,  and  he  should  not  pro 
fane  the  church.  But  his  look  and  voice 
[48] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

silenced  her  and  she  sank  back  in  amaze 
ment. 

He  preached  a  powerful  sermon,  and  at  its 
close  told  something  of  his  life  and  who  he 
was,  and  Martha  found  herself  all  at  once  the 
centre  of  attention;  and  her  face  glowed  and 
her  heart  burned  within  her  as  the  people 
about  her  nodded  and  smiled  at  her  through 
their  tears,  and  hurled  "Amen"  upon 
"Amen." 

Madison  hurried  to  her  side  after  the  serv 
ices.  "  I  des  wanted  to  s'prise  you  a  little, 
Marthy,"  he  said. 

She  was  too  happy  to  answer  and,  pressing 
his  arm  very  tightly,  she  walked  out  among 
her  congratulating  friends,  and  between  her 
husband  and  the  Rev.  Silas  Todbury  went 
proudly  home  to  her  Christmas  dinner. 


[49] 


THE  MISSION  OF  MR.  SCATTERS 


Ill 

THE   MISSION   OF  MR.   SCATTERS 

IT  took  something  just  short  of  a  revo 
lution  to  wake  up  the  sleepy  little  town 
of  Miltonville.     Through  the  slow,  hot 
days  it  drowsed  along  like  a  lazy  dog,  only 
half  rousing  now  and  then  to  snap  at  some  fly 
ing  rumour,  and  relapsing  at  once  into  its 
pristine  somnolence. 

It  was  not  a  dreamless  sleep,  however,  that 
held  the  town  in  chains.  It  had  its  dreams 
—dreams  of  greatness,  of  wealth,  of  conse 
quence  and  of  growth.  Granted  that  there 
was  no  effort  to  realise  these  visions,  they  were 
yet  there,  and,  combined  with  the  memory  of 
a  past  that  was  not  without  credit,  went  far  to 
give  tone  to  its  dormant  spirit. 

It  was  a  real  spirit,  too ;  the  gallant  Bourbon 
spirit  of  the  old  South;  of  Kentucky  when 

[53] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

she  is  most  the  daughter  of  Virginia,  as  was 
evidenced  in  the  awed  respect  which  all  Mil- 
tonvillians,  white  and  black  alike,  showed  to 
Major  Richardson  in  his  house  on  the  hill. 
He  was  part  of  the  traditions  of  the  place.  It 
was  shown  in  the  conservatism  of  the  old  white 
families,  and  a  certain  stalwart  if  reflected 
self-respect  in  the  older  coloured  inhabitants. 

In  all  the  days  since  the  school  had  been 
founded  and  Mr.  Dunkin's  marriage  to  the 
teacher  had  raised  a  brief  ripple  of  excite 
ment,  these  coloured  people  had  slumbered. 
They  were  still  slumbering  that  hot  August 
'day,  unmindful  of  the  sensation  that  lay  at 
their  very  doors,  heedless  of  the  portents  that 
said  as  plain  as  preaching,  "  Miltonville,  the 
time  is  at  hand,  awake! " 

So  it  was  that  that  afternoon  there  were 
only  a  few  loungers,  and  these  not  very  alert, 
about  the  station  when  the  little  train  wheezed 
and  puffed  its  way  into  it.  It  had  been  so 
long  since  anyone  save  those  whom  they  knew 
had  alighted  at  Miltonville  that  the  loungers 

[54] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

had  lost  faith,  and  with  it  curiosity,  and  now 
they  scarcely  changed  their  positions  as  the 
little  engine  stopped  with  a  snort  of  disgust. 
But  in  an  instant  indifference  had  fled  as  the 
mist  before  the  sun,  and  every  eye  on  the  plat 
form  was  staring  and  white.  It  is  the  unex 
pected  that  always  happens,  and  yet  humanity 
never  gets  accustomed  to  it.  The  loafers, 
white  and  black,  had  assumed  a  sitting  pos 
ture,  and  then  they  had  stood  up.  For  from 
the  cars  there  had  alighted  the  wonder  of  a 
stranger — a  Negro  stranger,  gorgeous  of  per 
son  and  attire.  He  was  dressed  in  a  suit  of 
black  cloth.  A  long  coat  was  buttoned  close 
around  his  tall  and  robust  form.  He  was 
dead  black,  from  his  shiny  top  hat  to  his  not 
less  shiny  boots,  and  about  him  there  was  the 
indefinable  air  of  distinction.  He  stood 
looking  about  the  platform  for  a  moment,  and 
then  stepped  briskly  and  decisively  toward 
the  group  that  was  staring  at  him  with  wide 
eyes.  There  was  no  hesitation  in  that  step. 
He  walked  as  a  man  walks  who  is  not  in  the 

[55] 


THE  HEART.  OF.  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

habit  of  being  stopped,  who  has  not  known 
what  it  is  to  be  told,  "  Thus  far  shalt  thou  go 
and  no  further." 

"  Can  you  tell  me  where  I  can  find  the  resi 
dence  of  Mr.  Isaac  Jackson?"  he  asked 
sonorously  as  he  reached  the  stupefied  loun 
gers.  His  voice  was  deep  and  clear. 

Someone  woke  from  his  astonishment  and 
offered  to  lead  him  thither,  and  together  the 
two  started  for  their  destination,  the  stranger 
keeping  up  a  running  fire  of  comment  on  the 
way.  Had  his  companion  been  a  close  ob 
server  and  known  anything  about  the  matter, 
he  would  have  found  the  newcomer's  English 
painfully,  unforgivably  correct.  A  language 
should  be  like  an  easy  shoe  on  a  flexible  foot, 
but  to  one  unused  to  it,  it  proves  rather  a  splint 
on  a  broken  limb.  The  stranger  stalked  about 
in  conversational  splints  until  they  arrived  at 
Isaac  Jackson's  door.  Then  giving  his  guide 
a  dime,  he  dismissed  him  with  a  courtly  bow, 
and  knocked. 

It  was  a  good  thing  that  Martha  Ann  Jack- 
[56] 


THE  HEART.  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

son  had  the  innate  politeness  of  her  race  well 
to  the  fore  when  she  opened  the  door  upon 
the  radiant  creature,  or  she  would  have  given 
voice  to  the  words  that  were  in  her  heart: 
"Good  Lawd,  what  is  dis?" 

"  Is  this  the  residence  of  Mr.  Isaac  Jack 
son?"  in  the  stranger's  suavest  voice. 

"  Yes,  suh,  he  live  hyeah." 

"May  I  see  him?  I  desire  to  see  him 
upon  some  business."  He  handed  her  his 
card,  which  she  carefully  turned  upside  down, 
glanced  at  without  understanding,  and  put  in 
her  apron  pocket  as  she  replied: 

"  He  ain't  in  jes'  now,  but  ef  you'll  step  in 
an'  wait,  I'll  sen'  one  o'  de  chillen  aftah  him." 

"  I  thank  you,  madam,  I  thank  you.  I  will 
come  in  and  rest  from  the  fatigue  of  my  jour 
ney.  I  have  travelled  a  long  way,  and  rest 
in  such  a  pleasant  and  commodious  abode  as 
your  own  appears  to  be  will  prove  very  grate 
ful  to  me." 

She  had  been  half  afraid  to  invite  this  re 
splendent  figure  into  her  humble  house,  but 

[57] 


THE  HEART.  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

she  felt  distinctly  flattered  at  his  allusion  to 
the  home  which  she  had  helped  Isaac  to  buy, 
and  by  the  alacrity  with  which  the  stranger 
accepted  her  invitation. 

She  ushered  him  into  the  front  room, 
mentally  thanking  her  stars  that  she  had 
forced  the  reluctant  Isaac  to  buy  a  bright  new 
carpet  a  couple  of  months  before. 

A  child  was  despatched  to  find  and  bring 
home  the  father,  while  Martha  Ann,  hastily 
slipping  out  of  her  work-dress  and  into  a 
starched  calico,  came  in  to  keep  her  visitor 
company. 

His  name  proved  to  be  Scatters,  and  he 
was  a  most  entertaining  and  ingratiating 
man.  It  was  evident  that  he  had  some  im 
portant  business  with  Isaac  Jackson,  but  that 
it  was  mysterious  was  shown  by  the  guarded 
way  in  which  he  occasionally  hinted  at  it  as 
he  tapped  the  valise  he  carried  and  nodded 
knowingly. 

Time  had  never  been  when  Martha  Ann 
Jackson  was  so  flustered.  She  was  charmed 

[58] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

and  frightened  and  flattered.  She  could 
only  leave  Mr.  Scatters  long  enough  to  give 
orders  to  her  daughter,  Lucy,  to  prepare  such 
a  supper  as  that  household  had  never  seen 
before;  then  she  returned  to  sit  again  at  his 
feet  and  listen  to  his  words  of  wisdom. 

The  supper  progressed  apace,  and  the 
savour  of  it  was  already  in  the  stranger's 
nostrils.  Upon  this  he  grew  eloquent  and 
was  about  to  divulge  his  secret  to  the  hungry- 
eyed  woman  when  the  trampling  of  Isaac's 
boots  upon  the  walk  told  him  that  he  had  only 
a  little  while  longer  to  contain  himself,  and  at 
the  same  time  to  wait  for  the  fragrant  supper. 

Now,  it  is  seldom  that  a  man  is  so  well  im 
pressed  with  a  smooth-tongued  stranger  as  is 
his  wife.  Usually  his  hard-headedness  puts 
him  on  the  defensive  against  the  blandish 
ments  of  the  man  who  has  won  his  better  half's 
favour,  and,  however  honest  the  semi-fortu 
nate  individual  may  be,  he  despises  him  for  his 
attainments.  But  it  was  not  so  in  this  case. 
Isaac  had  hardly  entered  the  house  and  re- 
[59] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

ceived  his  visitor's  warm  handclasp  before  he 
had  become  captive  to  his  charm.  Business, 
business — no,  his  guest  had  been  travelling 
and  he  must  be  both  tired  and  hungry.  Isaac 
would  hear  of  no  business  until  they  had  eaten. 
Then,  over  a  pipe,  if  the  gentleman  smoked, 
they  might  talk  at  their  ease. 

Mr.  Scatters  demurred,  but  in  fact  nothing 
could  have  pleased  him  better,  and  the  open 
smile  with  which  he  dropped  into  his  place 
at  the  table  was  very  genuine  and  heartfelt. 
Genuine,  too,  were  his  praises  of  Lucy's  cook 
ing;  of  her  flaky  buscuits  and  mealy  potatoes. 
He  was  pleased  all  through  and  he  did  not 
hesitate  to  say  so. 

It  was  a  beaming  group  that  finally  rose 
heavily  laden  from  the  supper  table. 

Over  a  social  pipe  a  little  later,  Isaac  Jack 
son  heard  the  story  that  made  his  eyes  bulge 
with  interest  and  his  heart  throb  with  eager 
ness. 

Mr.  Scatters  began,  tapping  his  host's 
breast  and  looking  at  him  fixedly,  "  You  had 

[60] 


THE   HEART,   OF  'HAPPY  HOLLOW 

a  brother  some  years  ago  named  John."  It 
was  more  like  an  accusation  than  a  ques 
tion. 

"Yes,  suh,  I  had  a  brothah  John." 

"  Uh,  huh,  and  that  brother  migrated  to  the 
West  Indies." 

"  Yes,  suh,  he  went  out  to  some  o'  dem  out 
landish  places." 

"  Hold  on,  sir,  hold  on,  I  am  a  West  Indian 
myself." 

"  I  do'  mean  no  erfence,  'ceptin'  dat  John 
allus  was  of  a  rovin'  dispersition." 

"  Very  well,  you  know  no  more  about  your 
brother  after  his  departure  for  the  West 
Indies?" 

"  No,  suh." 

"  Well,  it  is  my  mission  to  tell  you  the  rest 
of  the  story.  Your  brother  John  landed  at 
Cuba,  and  after  working  about  some  years 
and  living  frugally,  he  went  into  the  coffee 
business,  in  which  he  became  rich." 

"Rich?" 

"  Rich,  sir." 

F6il 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"  Why,  bless  my  soul,  who'd  'a  evah  thought 
that  of  John?  Why,  suh,  I'm  sho'ly  proud 
to  hyeah  it.  Why  don't  He  come  home  an' 
visit  a  body?  " 

"Ah,  why?"  said  Mr.  Scatters  dramat 
ically.  "Now  comes  the  most  painful  part 
of  my  mission.  '  In  the  midst  of  life  we  are 
in  death."  Mr.  Scatters  sighed,  Isaac 
sighed  and  wiped  his  eyes.  "  Two  years  ago 
your  brother  departed  this  life." 

"Was  he  saved?"  Isaac  asked  in  a  choked 
voice.  Scatters  gave  him  one  startled  glance, 
and  then  answered  hastily,  "  I  am  happy  to 
say  that  he  was." 

"  Poor  John!     He  gone  an'  me  lef." 

"Even  in  the  midst  of  our  sorrows,  how 
ever,  there  is  always  a  ray  of  light.  Your 
brother  remembered  you  in  his  will." 

"Remembered  me?" 

"  Remembered  you,  and  as  one  of  the  ex 
ecutors  of  his  estate," — Mr.  Scatters  rose  and 
went  softly  over  to  his  valise,  from  which  he 
took  a  large  square  package.  He  came  back 

[62] 


THE  HEART.  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

with  it,  holding  it  as  if  it  were  something 
sacred, — "  as  one  of  the  executors  of  his 
estate,  which  is  now  settled,  I  was  commis 
sioned  to  bring  you  this."  He  tapped  the 
package.  "This  package,  sealed  as  you  see 
with  the  seal  of  Cuba,  contains  five  thousand 
dollars  in  notes  and  bonds." 

Isaac  gasped  and  reached  for  the  bundle, 
but  it  was  withdrawn.  "  I  am,  however,  not 
to  deliver  it  to  you  yet.  There  are  certain  for 
malities  which  my  country  demands  to  be 
gone  through  with,  after  which  I  deliver  my 
message  and  return  to  the  fairest  of  lands,  to 
the  Gem  of  the  Antilles.  Let  me  congratu 
late  you,  Mr.  Jackson,  upon  your  good 
fortune." 

Isaac  yielded  up  his  hand  mechanically. 
He  was  dazed  by  the  vision  of  this  sudden 
wealth. 

"  Fi'  thousan'  dollahs,"  he  repeated. 

"Yes,  sir,  five  thousand  dollars.  It  is  a 
goodly  sum,  and  in  the  meantime,  until  court 
convenes,  I  wish  you  to  recommend  some  safe 

[63] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

place  in  which  to  put  this  money,  as  I  do  not 
feel  secure  with  it  about  my  person,  nor  would 
it  be  secure  if  it  were  known  to  be  in  your 
house." 

"  I  reckon  Albert  Matthews'  grocery  would 
be  the  safes'  place  fu'  it.  He's  got  one  o' 
dem  i'on  saftes." 

"The  very  place.  Let  us  go  there  at  once, 
and  after  that  I  will  not  encroach  upon  your 
hospitality  longer,  but  attempt  to  find  a 
hotel." 

"  Hotel  nothin',"  said  Isaac  emphatically. 
"Ef  my  house  ain't  too  common,  you'll  stay 
right  thaih  ontwell  co't  sets." 

"  This  is  very  kind  of  you,  Mr.  Jackson,  but 
really  I  couldn't  think  of  being  such  a  charge 
upon  you  and  your  good  wife." 

"  'Tain't  no  charge  on  us ;  we'll  be  glad  to 
have  you.  Folks  hyeah  in  Miltonville  has 
little  enough  comp'ny,  de  Lawd  knows." 

Isaac  spoke  the  truth,  and  it  was  as  much 
the  knowledge  that  he  would  be  the  envy  of 
all  the  town  as  his  gratitude  to  Scatters  that 
[64] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

prompted  him  to  prevail  upon  his  visitor  to 
stay. 

Scatters  was  finally  persuaded,  and  the  men 
only  paused  long  enough  in  the  house  to  tell 
the  curiosity-eaten  Martha  Ann  the  news,  and 
then  started  for  Albert  Matthews'  store.  Scat 
ters  carried  the  precious  package,  and  Isaac 
was  armed  with  an  old  shotgun  lest  anyone 
should  suspect  their  treasure  and  attack  them. 
Five  thousand  dollars  was  not  to  be  carelessly 
handled! 

As  soon  as  the  men  were  gone,  Martha  Ann 
started  out  upon  her  rounds,  and  her  proud 
tongue  did  for  the  women  portion  of  Milton- 
ville  what  the  visit  to  Matthews'  store  did  for 
the  men.  Did  Mrs.  So-and-So  remember 
brother  John?  Indeed  she  did.  And  when 
the  story  was  told,  it  was  a  "Well,  well,  well! 
he  used  to  be  an  ol'  beau  o'  mine."  Martha 
Ann  found  no  less  than  twenty  women  of  her 
acquaintance  for  whom  her  brother  John 
seemed  to  have  entertained  tender  feelings. 

The  corner  grocery  store  kept  by  Albert 
[65] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW. 

Matthews  was  the  general  gathering-place  for 
the  coloured  male  population  of  the  town.  It 
was  a  small,  one-roomed  building,  almost  filled 
with  barrels,  boxes,  and  casks. 

Pride  as  well  as  necessity  had  prompted 
Isaac  to  go  to  the  grocery  just  at  this  time, 
when  it  would  be  quite  the  fullest  of  men. 
He  had  not  calculated  wrongly  when  he 
reckoned  upon  the  sensation  that  would  be 
made  by  his  entrance  with  the  distinguished- 
looking  stranger.  The  excitement  was  all 
the  most  hungry  could  have  wished  for.  The 
men  stared  at  Jackson  and  his  companion  with 
wide-open  eyes.  They  left  off  chewing  to 
bacco  and  telling  tales.  A  half-dozen  of  them 
forgot  to  avail  themselves  of  the  joy  of  spit 
ting,  and  Albert  Matthews,  the  proprietor,  a 
weazened  little  brown-skinned  man,  forgot  to 
lay  his  hand  upon  the  scale  in  weighing  out 
a  pound  of  sugar. 

With  a  humility  that  was  false  on  the  very 
face  of  it,  Isaac  introduced  his  guest  to  the 
grocer  and  the  three  went  off  together  mys- 

F661 


THE  HEART,  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

teriously  into  a  corner.  The  matter  was  duly 
explained  and  the  object  of  the  visit  told. 
Matthews  burned  with  envy  of  his  neigh 
bour's  good  fortune. 

"  I  do'  reckon,  Mistah  Scatters,  dat  we  bet- 
tali  let  de  othah  folks  in  de  sto'  know  any 
thing  'bout  dis  hyeah  bus'ness  of  ouahs.  I  got 
to  be  'sponsible  fu  dat  money,  an'  I  doesn't 
want  to  tek  no  chances.'' 

"You  are  perfectly  right,  sir,  perfectly 
right.  You  are  responsible,  not  only  for  the 
money  itself,  but  for  the  integrity  of  this  seal 
which  means  the  dignity  of  government." 

Matthews  looked  sufficiently  impressed, 
and  together  they  all  went  their  way  among 
the  barrels  and  boxes  to  the  corner  where  the 
little  safe  stood.  With  many  turnings  and 
twistings  the  door  was  opened,  the  package  in 
closed  and  the  safe  shut  again.  Then  they 
all  rose  solemnly  and  went  behind  the  counter 
to  sample  something  that  Matthews  had. 
This  was  necessary  as  a  climax,  for  they  had 
performed,  not  a  mere  deed,  but  a  ceremonial. 

[67] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"Of  course,  you'll  say  nothing  about  this 
matter  at  all,  Mr.  Matthews,"  said  Scatters, 
thereby  insuring  publicity  to  his  affair. 

There  were  a  few  introductions  as  the  men 
passed  out,  but  hardly  had  their  backs  turned 
when  a  perfect  storm  of  comment  and  inquiry 
broke  about  the  grocer's  head.  So  it  came 
to  pass,  that  with  many  mysterious  nods  and 
headshakings,  Matthews  first  hinted  at  and 
then  told  the  story. 

For  the  first  few  minutes  the  men  could 
scarcely  believe  what  they  had  heard.  It 
was  so  utterly  unprecedented.  Then  it 
dawned  upon  them  that  it  might  be  so,  and 
discussion  and  argument  ran  rife  for  the  next 
hour. 

The  story  flew  like  wildfire,  there  being 
three  things  in  this  world  which  interest  all 
sorts  and  conditions  of  men  alike:  great 
wealth,  great  beauty,  and  great  love.  When 
ever  Mr.  Scatters  appeared  he  was  greeted 
with  deference  and  admiration.  Any  man 
who  had  come  clear  from  Cuba  on  such  an 

[68] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

errand  to  their  fellow-townsman  deserved  all 
honour  and  respect.  His  charming  manners 
confirmed,  too,  all  that  preconceived  notions 
had  said  of  him.  He  became  a  social  favour 
ite.  It  began  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dunkin's 
calling  upon  him.  Then  followed  Alonzo 
Taft,  and  when  the  former  two  gave  a  recep 
tion  for  the  visitor,  his  position  was  assured. 
Miltonville  had  not  yet  arisen  to  the  dignity 
of  having  a  literary  society.  He  now  founded 
one  and  opened  it  himself  with  an  address  so 
beautiful,  so  eloquent  and  moving  that  Mr. 
Dunkin  bobbed  his  head  dizzy  in  acquies 
cence,  and  Aunt  Hannah  Payne  thought  she 
was  in  church  and  shouted  for  joy. 

The  little  town  had  awakened  from  its 
long  post-bellum  slumber  and  accepted  with 
eagerness  the  upward  impulse  given  it.  It 
stood  aside  and  looked  on  with  something  like 
adoration  when  Mr.  Scatters  and  Mrs.  Dun- 
kin  met  and  talked  of  ineffable  things — 
things  far  above  the  ken  of  the  average 
mortal. 

[69] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

When  Mr.  Scatters  found  that  his  mission 
was  known,  he  gave  up  further  attempts  at 
concealing  it  and  talked  freely  about  the  mat 
ter.  He  expatiated  at  length  upon  the  re 
sponsibility  that  devolved  upon  him  and  his 
desire  to  discharge  it,  and  he  spoke  glowingly 
of  the  great  government  whose  power  was  rep 
resented  by  the  seal  which  held  the  package 
of  bonds.  Not  for  one  day  would  he  stay 
away  from  his  beloved  Cuba,  if  it  were  not 
that  that  seal  had  to  be  broken  in  the  presence 
of  the  proper  authorities.  So,  however  re 
luctant  he  might  be  to  stay,  it  was  not  for  him 
to  shirk  his  task:  he  must  wait  for  the  sitting 
of  court. 

Meanwhile  the  Jacksons  lived  in  an  atmos 
phere  of  glory.  The  womenfolk  purchased 
new  dresses,  and  Isaac  got  a  new  wagon  on  the 
strength  of  their  good  fortune.  It  was  noth 
ing  to  what  they  dreamed  of  doing  when  they 
had  the  money  positively  in  hand.  Mr.  Scat 
ters  still  remained  their  guest,  and  they  were 
proud  of  it. 

[70] 


THE  HEART*  OF  HAPPY,  HOLLOW 

What  pleased  them  most  was  that  their  dis 
tinguished  visitor  seemed  not  to  look  down 
upon,  but  rather  to  be  pleased  with,  their 
homely  fare.  Isaac  had  further  cause  for 
pleasure  when  his  guest  came  to  him  later 
with  a  great  show  of  frank  confidence  to  re 
quest  the  loan  of  fifty  dollars. 

"I  should  not  think  of  asking  even  this 
small  favour  of  you  but  that  I  have  only  Cuban 
money  with  me  and  I  knew  you  would  feel 
distressed  if  you  knew  that  I  went  to  the 
trouble  of  sending  this  money  away  for  ex 
change  on  account  of  so  small  a  sum." 

This  was  undoubtedly  a  mark  of  special 
confidence.  It  suddenly  made  Isaac  feel  as 
if  the  grand  creature  had  accepted  and 
labelled  him  as  a  brother  and  an  equal.  He 
hastened  to  Matthews'  safe,  where  he  kept  his 
own  earnings;  for  the  grocer  was  banker  as 
well. 

With  reverent  hands  they  put  aside  the 
package  of  bonds  and  together  counted  out 
the  required  half  a  hundred  dollars.  In  a 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

little    while    Mr.    Scatters    long,    graceful 
fingers  had  closed  over  it. 

Mr.  Jackson's  cup  of  joy  was  now  full.  It 
had  but  one  bitter  drop  to  mar  its  sweetness. 
That  was  the  friendship  that  had  sprung  up 
between  the  Cuban  and  Mr.  Dunkin.  They 
frequently  exchanged  visits,  and  sat  long 
together  engaged  in  conversation  from  which 
Isaac  was  excluded.  This  galled  him.  He 
felt  that  he  had  a  sort  of  proprietary  interest 
in  his  guest.  And  any  infringement  of  this 
property  right  he  looked  upon  with  distinct 
disfavour.  So  that  it  was  with  no  pleasant 
countenance  that  he  greeted  Mr.  Dunkin 
when  he  called  on  a  certain  night. 

"  Mr.  Scatters  is  gone  out,"  he  said,  as  the 
old  man  entered  and  deposited  his  hat  on  the 
floor. 

"Dat's  all  right,  Isaac,"  said  Mr.  Dunkin 
slowly,  "  I  didn't  come  to  see  de  gent'man.  I 
come  to  see  you." 

The  cloud  somewhat  lifted  from  Isaac's 
brow.  Mr.  Dunkin  was  a  man  of  importance 

[72] 


THE  HEART.  OF  HAPPY.  HOLLOW 

and  it  made  a  deal  of  difference  whom  he  was 
visiting. 

He  seemed  a  little  bit  embarrassed,  how 
ever,  as  to  how  to  open  conversation.  He 
hummed  and  hawed  and  was  visibly  uneasy. 
He  tried  to  descant  upon  the  weather,  but  the 
subject  failed  him.  Finally,  with  an  effort, 
he  hitched  his  chair  nearer  to  his  host's  and 
said  in  a  low  voice,  "  Ike,  I  reckon  you  has  de 
confidence  of  Mistah  Scatters?" 

"  I  has,"  was  the  proud  reply,  "  I  has." 

"Hum!  uh!  huh!  Well — well — has  you 
evah  loant  him  any  money?" 

Isaac  was  aghast.     Such  impertinence! 

"Mistah  Dunkin,"  he  began,  "I  con- 
sidah " 

"  Hoi'  on,  Ike!  "  broke  in  Dunkin,  laying  a 
soothing  hand  on  the  other's  knee,  "  don'  git 
on  yo'  high  hoss.  Dis  hyeah's  a  important 
mattah." 

"  I  ain't  got  nothin'  to  say." 

"  He  ain't  never  tol'  you  'bout  havin'  nothin' 
but  Cubian  money  on  him?" 

[73] 


THE  HEART,  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

Isaac  started. 

"I  see  he  have.  He  tol'  me  de  same 
thing." 

The  two  men  sat  staring  suspiciously  into 
each  other's  faces. 

"  He  got  a  hun'ed  an'  fifty  dollahs  f'om 
me,"  said  Dunkin. 

"I  let  him  have  fifty,"  added  Jackson 
weakly. 

"  He  got  a  hun'ed  an'  fifty  dollahs  f'om 
thews.  Dat's  how  I  come  to  git  'spicious.  He 
tol'  him  de  same  sto'y." 

Again  that  pregnant  look  flashed  between 
them,  and  they  both  rose  and  went  out  of  the 
house. 

They  hurried  down  to  Matthews'  grocery. 
The  owner  was  waiting  for  them  there.  There 
was  solemnity,  but  no  hesitation,  in  the  man 
ner  with  which  they  now  went  to  the  safe. 
They  took  out  the  package  hastily  and  with 
ruthless  hands.  This  was  no  ceremonial  now. 
The  seal  had  no  longer  any  fears  for  them. 
They  tore  it  off.  They  tore  the  wrappers. 

[74] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

Then  paper.  Neatly  folded  paper.  More 
wrapping  paper.  Newspapers.  Nothing 
more.  Of  bills  or  bonds — nothing.  With 
the  debris  of  the  mysterious  parcel  scattered 
about  their  feet,  they  stood  up  and  looked  at 
each  other. 

"  I  nevah  did  believe  in  furriners  nohow," 
said  Mr.  Dunkin  sadly. 

"  But  he  knowed  all  about  by  brothah 
John." 

"An'  he  sho'ly  did  make  mighty  fine 
speeches.  Maybe  we's  missed  de  money." 
This  from  the  grocer. 

Together  they  went  over  the  papers  again, 
with  the  same  result. 

"  Do  you  know  where  he  went  to-night, 
Ike?" 

"No." 

"  Den  I  reckon  we's  seed  de  las'  o'  him." 

"  But  he  lef  his  valise." 

"Yes,  an'  he  lef  dis,"  said  Dunkin  sternly, 
pointing  to  the  paper  on  the  floor.  "  He  sho'ly 
is  mighty  keerless  of  his  valybles." 

[751 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"  Let's  go  git  de  constable,"  said  the  prac 
tical  Matthews. 

They  did,  though  they  felt  that  it  would  be 
unavailing. 

The  constable  came  and  waited  at  Jackson's 
house.  They  had  been  there  about  half  an 
hour,  talking  the  matter  over,  when  what  was 
their  surprise  to  hear  Mr.  Scatters'  step  com 
ing  jauntily  up  the  walk.  A  sudden  panic  of 
terror  and  shame  seized  them.  It  was  as  if 
they  had  wronged  him.  Suppose,  after  all, 
everything  should  come  right  and  he  should 
be  able  to  explain?  They  sat  and  trembled 
until  he  entered.  Then  the  constable  told 
him  his  mission. 

Mr.  Scatters  was  surprised.  He  was  hurt. 
Indeed,  he  was  distinctly  grieved  that  his 
friends  Had  had  so  little  confidence  in  him. 
Had  he  been  to  them  anything  but  a  gentle 
man,  a  friend,  and  an  honest  man?  Had  he 
not  come  a  long  distance  from  his  home  to 
do  one  of  them  a  favour?  They  hung  their 
heads.  Martha  Ann,  who  was  listening  at 
176] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

the  door,  was  sobbing  audibly.  What  had 
he  done  thus  to  be  humiliated?  He  saw  the 
effect  of  his  words  and  pursued  it.  Had  he 
not  left  in  the  care  of  one  of  their  own  num 
ber  security  for  his  integrity  in  the  shape  of 
the  bonds? 

The  effect  of  his  words  was  magical.  Every 
head  went  up  and  three  pairs  of  flashing  eyes 
were  bent  upon  him.  He  saw  and  knew  that 
they  knew.  He  had  not  thought  that  they 
would  dare  to  violate  the  seal  around  which 
he  had  woven  such  a  halo.  He  saw  that  all 
was  over,  and,  throwing  up  his  hands  with 
a  despairing  gesture,  he  bowed  graciously 
and  left  the  room  with  the  constable. 

All  Miltonville  had  the  story  next  day,  and 
waited  no  less  eagerly  than  before  for  the 
"  settin'  of  co't." 

To  the  anger  and  chagrin  of  Miltonvillians, 
Fox  Run  had  the  honour  and  distinction  of 
being  the  county  seat,  and  thither  they  must 
go  to  the  sessions;  but  never  did  they  so  forget 
their  animosities  as  on  the  day  set  for  the 
[77] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

trial  of  Scatters.  They  overlooked  the  pride 
of  the  Fox  Runners,  their  cupidity  and  their 
vaunting  arrogance.  They  ignored  the  indig 
nity  of  showing  interest  in  anything  that  took 
place  in  that  village,  and  went  in  force,  eager, 
anxious,  and  curious.  Ahorse,  afoot,  by  ox 
cart,  by  mule-wagon,  white,  black,  high,  low, 
old,  and  young  of  both  sexes  invaded  Fox  Run 
and  swelled  the  crowd  of  onlookers  until,  with 
pity  for  the  very  anxiety  of  the  people,  the 
humane  judge  decided  to  discard  the  now  in 
adequate  court-room  and  hold  the  sessions  on 
the  village  green.  Here  an  impromptu  bar 
was  set  up,  and  over  against  it  were  ranged 
the  benches,  chairs,  and  camp-stools  of  the 
spectators. 

Every  man  of  prominence  in  the  county 
was  present.  Major  Richardson,  though  now 
retired,  occupied  a  distinguished  position 
within  the  bar.  Old  Captain  Howard  shook 
hands  familiarly  with  the  judge  and  nodded 
to  the  assembly  as  though  he  himself  had 
invited  them  all  to  be  present.  Former 

[78] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

Judge  Durbin  sat  with  his  successor  on  the 
bench. 

Court  opened  and  the  first  case  was  called. 
It  gained  but  passing  attention.  There  was 
bigger  game  to  be  stalked.  A  hog-stealing 
case  fared  a  little  better  on  account  of  the 
intimateness  of  the  crime  involved.  But 
nothing  was  received  with  such  awed  silence 
as  the  case  of  the  State  against  Joseph  Scat 
ters.  The  charge  was  obtaining  money  under 
false  pretences,  and  the  plea  "  Not  Guilty." 

The  witnesses  were  called  and  their  testi 
mony  taken.  Mr.  Scatters  was  called  to  tes 
tify  in  his  own  defence,  but  refused  to  do  so. 
The  prosecution  stated  its  case  and  proceeded 
to  sum  up  the  depositions  of  the  witnesses. 
As  there  wras  no  attorney  for  the  defence, 
the  State's  attorney  delivered  a  short  speech, 
in  which  the  guilt  of  the  defendant  was  plainly 
set  forth.  It  was  as  clear  as  day.  Things 
looked  very  dark  for  Mr.  Scatters  of  Cuba. 

As  the  lawyer  sat  down,  and  ere  the  case 
could  be  given  to  the  jury,  he  rose  and 

[79] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

asked  permission  of  the  Court  to  say  a  few 
words. 

This  was  granted  him. 

He  stood  up  among  them,  a  magnificent, 
strong,  black  figure.  His  eyes  swept  the  as 
sembly,  judge,  jury,  and  spectators  with  a  look 
half  amusement,  half  defiance. 

"  I  have  pleaded  not  guilty,"  he  began  in  a 
low,  distinct  voice  that  could  be  heard  in 
every  part  of  the  inclosure,  "  and  I  am  not 
guilty  of  the  spirit  which  is  charged  against 
me,  however  near  the  letter  may  touch  me.  I 
did  use  certain  knowledge  that  I  possessed, 
and  the  seal  which  I  happened  to  have  from 
an  old  government  position,  to  defraud — that 
is  the  word,  if  you  will — to  defraud  these  men 
out  of  the  price  of  their  vanity  and  their 
cupidity.  But  it  was  not  a  long-premeditated 
thing.  I  was  within  a  few  miles  of  your  town 
before  the  idea  occurred  to  me.  I  was  in 
straits.  I  stepped  from  the  brink  of  great 
poverty  into  the  midst  of  what  you  are  pleased 
to  deem  a  greater  crime." 

[80] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

The  Court  held  its  breath.  No  such  audac 
ity  had  ever  been  witnessed  in  the  life  of  Fox 
Run. 

Scatters  went  on,  warming  to  his  subject  as 
he  progressed.  He  was  eloguent  and  he  was 
pleasing.  A  smile  flickered  over  the  face  of 
Major  Richardson  and  was  reflected  in  the 
features  of  many  others  as  the  speaker  burst 
forth : 

"  Gentlemen,  I  maintain  that  instead  of  im 
prisoning  you  should  thank  me  for  what  I 
have  done.  Have  I  not  taught  your  commu 
nity  a  lesson?  Have  I  not  put  a  check  upon 
their  credulity  and  made  them  wary  of  un 
heralded  strangers?" 

He  had.  There  was  no  disputing  that.  The 
judge  himself  was  smiling,  and  the  jurymen 
were  nodding  at  each  other. 

Scatters  had  not  yet  played  his  trump  card. 
He  saw  that  the  time  was  ripe.  Straightening 
his  form  and  raising  his  great  voice,  he  cried: 
"  Gentlemen,  I  am  guilty  according  to  the  let 
ter  of  the  law,  but  from  that  I  appeal  to  the 

[81] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

men  who  make  and  have  made  the  law.  From 
the  hard  detail  of  this  new  day,  I  appeal  to  the 
chivalry  of  the  old  South  which  has  been  told 
in  story  and  sung  in  song.  From  men  of  vin- 
dictiveness  I  appeal  to  men  of  mercy.  From 
plebeians  to  aristocrats.  By  the  memory  of 
the  sacred  names  of  the  Richardsons " — the 
Major  sat  bolt  upright  and  dropped  his  snuff 
box — "the  Durbins" — the  ex-judge  couldn't 
for  his  life  get  his  pince-nez  on — "  the  How 
ards  "  —the  captain  openly  rubbed  his  hands 
— "  to  the  memory  that  those  names  call  up  I 
appeal,  and  to  the  living  and  honourable  bear 
ers  of  them  present.  And  to  you,  gentlemen 
of  the  jury,  the  lives  of  whose  fathers  went  to 
purchase  this  dark  and  bloody  ground,  I  ap 
peal  from  the  accusation  of  these  men,  who 
are  not  my  victims,  not  my  dupes,  but  their 


own." 


There  was  a  hush  when  he  was  done.  The 
judge  read  the  charge  to  the  jury,  and  it  was 
favourable — very.  And — well,  Scatters  had 
taught  the  darkies  a  lesson ;  he  had  spoken  of 

[82] 


THE  HEART,  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

their  families  and  their  traditions,  he  knew 
their  names,  and — oh,  well,  he  was  a  good 
fellow  after  all — what  was  the  use? 

The  jury  did  not  leave  their  seats,  and  the 
verdict  was  acquittal. 

Scatters  thanked  the  Court  and  started 
away;  but  he  met  three  ominous-looking  pairs 
of  eyes,  and  a  crowd  composed  of  angry 
Negroes  was  flocking  toward  the  edge  of  the 
green. 

He  came  back. 

"  I  think  I  had  better  wait  until  the  excite 
ment  subsides,"  he  said  to  Major  Richardson. 

"No  need  of  that,  suh,  no  need  of  that. 
Here,  Jim,"  he  called  to  his  coachman,  "  take 
Mr.  Scatters  wherever  he  wants  to  go,  and  re 
member,  I  shall  hold  you  responsible  for  his 
safety." 

"Yes,  suh,"  said  Jim. 

"A  thousand  thanks,  Major,"  said  the  man 
with  the  mission. 

"Not  at  all,  suh.  By  the  way,  that  was  a 
very  fine  effort  of  yours  this  afternoon.  I  was 

[83] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

greatly  moved  by  it.  If  you'll  give  me  your 
address  I'll  send  you  a  history  of  our  family, 
suh,  from  the  time  they  left  Vuhginia  and  be 
fore." 

Mr.  Scatters  gave  Him  the  address,  and 
smiled  at  the  three  enemies,  who  still  waited 
on  the  edge  of  the  green. 

"To  the  station,"  he  said  to  the  driver. 


[841 


A   MATTER    OF   DOCTRINE 


IV 
A   MATTER    OF   DOCTRINE 

THERE  was  great  excitement  in  Mil- 
tonville  over  the  advent  of  a  most 
eloquent  and  convincing  minister 
from  the  North.  The  beauty  about  the  Rev. 
Thaddeus  Warwick  was  that  he  was  purely 
and  simply  a  man  of  the  doctrine.  He  had  no 
emotions,  his  sermons  were  never  matters  of 
feeling;  but  he  insisted  so  strongly  upon  tHe 
constant  presentation  of  the  tenets  of  his  creed 
that  his  presence  in  a  town  was  always  marked 
by  the  enthusiasm  and  joy  of  religious  dispu 
tation. 

The  Rev.  Jasper  Hayward,  coloured,  was  a 
man  quite  of  another  stripe.  With  him  it  was 
not  so  much  what  a  man  held  as  what  he  felt. 
The  difference  in  their  characteristics,  how 
ever,  did  not  prevent  him  from  attending  Dr. 
Warwick's  series  of  sermons,  where,  from  the 
vantage  point  of  the  gallery,  he  drank  in,  with- 

[87] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

out  assimilating,  that  divine's  words  of  wis 
dom. 

Especially  was  he  edified  on  the  night  that 
his  white  brother  held  forth  upon  the  doctrine 
of  predestination.  It  was  not  that  he  under 
stood  it  at  all,  but  that  it  sounded  well  and  the 
words  had  a  rich  ring  as  he  champed  over 
them  again  and  again. 

Mr.  Hayward  was  a  man  for  the  time  and 
knew  that  his  congregation  desired  something 
new,  and  if  he  could  supply  it  he  was  willing 
to  take  lessons  even  from  a  white  co-worker 
who  had  neither  "  de  spi'it  ner  He  fiah."  Be 
cause,  as  he  was  prone  to  admit  to  himself, 
"  dey  was  sump'in'  in  de  unnerstanninV 

He  had  no  idea  what  plagiarism  is,  and 
without  a  single  thought  of  wrong,  he  in 
tended  to  reproduce  for  his  people  the  relig 
ious  wisdom  which  he  acquired  at  the  white 
church.  He  was  an  innocent  beggar  going 
to  the  doors  of  the  well-provided  for  cold  spir 
itual  victuals  to  warm  over  for  his  own  fam 
ily.  And  it  would  not  be  plagiarism  either, 

[88] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

for  this  very  warming-over  process  would 
save  it  from  that  and  make  his  own  whatever 
he  brought.  He  would  season  with  the  pep 
per  of  his  homely  wit,  sprinkle  it  with  the  salt 
of  his  home-made  philosophy,  then,  hot  with 
the  fire  of  his  crude  eloquence,  serve  to  his 
people  a  dish  his  very  own.  But  to  the  true 
purveyor  of  original  dishes  it  is  never  pleas 
ant  to  know  that  someone  else  holds  the  secret 
of  the  groundwork  of  his  invention. 

It  was  then  something  of  a  shock  to  the 
Reverend  Mr.  Hayward  to  be  accosted  by 
Isaac  Middleton,  one  of  his  members,  just  as 
he  was  leaving  the  gallery  on  the  night  of  this 
most  edifying  of  sermons. 

Isaac  laid  a  hand  upon  his  shoulder  and 
smiled  at  him  benevolently. 

"How  do,  Brothah  Hayward,"  he  said, 
"  you  been  sittin'  unner  de  drippin's  of  de  gos 
pel,  too?" 

"Yes,  I  has  been  listenin'  to  de  wo'ds  of  my 
fellow-laborah  in  de  vineya'd  of  de  Lawd," 
replied  the  preacher  with  some  dignity,  for  he 
[89] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

saw  vanishing  the  vision  of  his  own  glory  in  a 
revivified  sermon  on  predestination. 

Isaac  linked  his  arm  familiarly  in  his  pas 
tor's  as  they  went  out  upon  the  street. 

"Well,  what  you  t'ink  erbout  pre-o'dina- 
tion  an'  fo'-destination  any  how?" 

"It  sutny  has  been  pussented  to  us  in  a 
powahful  light  dis  eve'nin'." 

"  Well,  suh,  hit  opened  up  my  eyes.  I  do' 
know  when  I's  hyeahed  a  sehmon  dat  done 
my  soul  mo'  good." 

"  It  was  a  upliftin'  episode." 

"  Seem  lak  'co'din'  to  de  way  de  brothah 
'lucidated  de  matter  to-night  dat  evaht'ing 
done  sot  out  an'  cut  an'  dried  fu'  us.  Well 
Hat's  gwine  to  he'p  me  lots." 

"  De  gospel  is  allus  a  he'p." 

"  But  not  allus  in  dis  way.  You  see  I  ain't 
a  eddicated  man  lak  you,  Brothah  Hayward." 

"We  can't  all  have  de  same  Vantages,"  the 
preacher  condescended.  "  But  what  I  feels, 
I  feels,  an'  what  I  unnerstan's,  I  unnerstan's. 
The  Scripture  tell  us  to  get  unnerstanninV 

[90] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"Well,  dat's  what  I's  been  a-doin'  to-night. 
I's  been  a-doubtin'  an'  a-doubtin',  a-foolin' 
erroun'  an'  wonderin',  but  now  I  unner- 


stan'." 


"'Splain  yo'se'f,  Brothah  Middleton,"  said 
the  preacher. 

"  Well,  suh,  I  will  to  you.  You  knows  Miss 
Sally  Briggs?  Huh,  what  say?" 

The  Reverend  Hayward  had  given  a  half 
discernible  start  and  an  exclamation  had 
fallen  from  his  lips. 

"What  say?"  repeated  his  companion. 

"  I  knows  de  sistah  ve'y  well,  she  bein'  a 
membah  of  my  flock." 

"Well,  I  been  gwine  in  comp'ny  wit  dat 
ooman  fu'  de  longes.'  You  ain't  nevah  tasted 
none  o'  huh  cookin',  has  you?  " 

"  I  has  'sperienced  de  sistah's  puffo'mances 
in  dat  line." 

"  She  is  the  cookin'est  ooman  I  evah  seed  in 
all  my  life,  but  howsomedever,  I  been  gwine 
all  dis  time  an'  I  ain'  nevah  said  de  wo'd.  I 
nevah  could  git  clean  erway  f'om  huh  widout 

[91] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

somep'n'  drawin'  me  back,  an'  I  didn't  know 
what  hit  was." 

The  preacher  was  restless. 

"Hit  was  des  dis  away,  Brothah  Hayward, 
I  was  allus  lingerin'  on  de  brink,  feahful  to 
la'nch  away,  but  now  Fs  a-gwine  to  la'nch, 
case  dat  all  dis  time  tain't  been  nuffin  but  fo'- 
destination  dat  been  a-holdin'  me  on." 

"Ahem,"  said  the  minister;  "we  mus'  not 
be  in  too  big  a  hu'y  to  put  ouah  human  weak 
nesses  upon  some  divine  cause." 

"  I  ain't  a-doin'  dat,  dough  I  ain't  a-sputin' 
dat  de  lady  is  a  mos'  oncommon  fine  lookin' 
pusson." 

"I  has  only  seed  huh  wid  de  eye  of  3e 
spi'it,"  was  the  virtuous  answer,  "an'  to  dat 
eye  all  t'ings  dat  are  good  are  beautiful." 

'Yes,  suh,  an'  lookin'  wid  de  cookin'  eye, 
hit  seem  lak'  I  des  fo'destinated  fu'  to  ma'y 
dat  ooman." 

"You  say  you  ain't  axe  huh  yit?" 

"Not  yit,  but  I's  gwine  to  ez  soon  ez  evali 
I  gets  de  chanst  now." 

[92] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"  Uh,  huh,"  said  the  preacher,  and  he  began 
to  hasten  his  steps  homeward. 

"  Seems  lak  you  in  a  pow'ful  hu'y  to-night," 
said  his  companion,  with  some  difficulty  ac 
commodating  his  own  step  to  the  preacher's 
masterly  strides.  He  was  a  short  man  and  his 
pastor  was  tall  and  gaunt. 

"  I  has  somp'n'  on  my  min,1  Brothah  Mid- 
dleton,  dat  I  wants  to  thrash  out  to-night  in  de 
sollertude  of  my  own  chambah,"  was  the 
solemn  reply. 

"Well,  I  ain'  gwine  keep  erlong  wid  you 
an'  pestah  you  wid  my  chattah,  Brothah  Hay- 
ward,"  and  at  the  next  corner  Isaac  Middle- 
ton  turned  off  and  went  his  way,  with  a  cheery 
"so  long,  may  de  Lawd  set  wid  you  in  yo' 
meddertations." 

"  So  long,"  said  his  pastor  hastily.  Then  he 
did  what  would  be  strange  in  any  man,  but 
seemed  stranger  in  so  virtuous  a  minister.  He 
checked  his  hasty  pace,  and,  after  furtively 
watching  Middleton  out  of  sight,  turned  and 
retraced  his  steps  in  a  direction  exactly  oppo- 
[93] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

site  to  the  one  in  which  he  had  been  going,  and 
toward  the  cottage  of  the  very  Sister  Griggs 
concerning  whose  charms  the  minister's  par 
ishioner  had  held  forth. 

It  was  late,  but  the  pastor  knew  that  the 
woman  whom  he  sought  was  industrious  and 
often  worked  late,  and  with  ever  increasing 
eagerness  he  hurried  on.  He  was  fully  re 
warded  for  his  perseverance  when  the  light 
from  the  window  of  his  intended  hostess 
gleamed  upon  him,  and  when  she  stood  in  the 
full  glow  of  it  as  the  door  opened  in  answer 
to  his  knock. 

"La,  Brothah  Hayward,  ef  it  ain't  you; 
howdy;  come  in." 

"  Howdy,  howdy,  Sistah  Griggs,  how  you 
come  on?" 

"  Oh,  Fs  des  tollable,"  industriously  dusting 
a  chair.  "  How's  yo'se'f?" 

"I's  right  smaht,  thankee  ma'am." 

"Wy,  Brothah  Hayward,  ain't  you  los' 
down  in  dis  paht  of  de  town?  " 

"No,  indeed,  Sistah  Griggs,  de  shep'erd 
[94] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

ain't  nevah  los'  no  whaih  dey's  any  of  'de 
flock."  Then  looking  around  the  room  at 
the  piles  of  ironed  clothes,  he  added:  "You 
sutny  is  a  indust'ious  ooman." 

"  I  was  des  'bout  finishin'  up  some  i'onin'  I 
had  fu'  de  white  folks,"  smiled  Sister  Griggs, 
taking  down  her  ironing-board  and  resting  it 
in  the  corner.  "Allus  when  I  gits  thoo  my 
wo'k  at  nights  I's  putty  well  tiahed  out  an' 
has  to  eat  a  snack;  set  by,  Brothah  Hayward, 
while  I  fixes  us  a  bite." 

"  La,  sisteh,  hit  don't  skacely  seem  right  fu' 
me  to  be  a-comin'  in  hyeah  lettin'  you  fix  fu' 
me  at  dis  time  o'  night,  an'  you  mighty  nigh 
tuckahed  out,  too." 

"  Tsch,  Brothah  Hayward,  taint  no  ha'dah 
lookin'  out  fu'  two  dan  it  is  lookin'  out  fu' 


one." 


Hayward  flashed  a  quick  upward  glance  at 
his  hostess'  face  and  then  repeated  slowly, 
"  Yes'm,  dat  sutny  is  de  trufe.  I  ain't  nevah 
t'ought  o'  that  befo'.  Hit  ain't  no  ha'dah 
lookin'  out  fu'  two  dan  hit  is  fu'  one,"  and 

[951 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

though  he  was  usually  an  incessant  talker,  he 
lapsed  into  a  brown  study. 

Be  it  known  that  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hayward 
was  a  man  of  a  very  level  head,  and  that  his 
bachelorhood  was  a  matter  of  economy.  He 
had  long  considered  matrimony  in  the  light 
of  a  most  desirable  estate,  but  one  which  he 
feared  to  embrace  until  the  rewards  for  his 
labours  began  looking  up  a  little  better.  But 
now  the  matter  was  being  presented  to  him  in 
an  entirely  different  light.  "  Hit  ain't  no 
ha'dah  lookin'  out  fu'  two  dan  fu'  one." 
Might  that  not  be  the  truth  after  all.  One 
had  to  have  food.  It  would  take  very  little 
more  to  do  for  two.  One  had  to  have  a  home 
to  live  in.  The  same  house  would  shelter  two. 
One  had  to  wear  clothes.  Well,  now,  there 
came  the  rub.  But  he  thought  of  donation 
parties,  and  smiled.  Instead  of  being  an  ex 
travagance,  might  not  this  union  of  two  beings 
be  an  economy?  Somebody  to  cook  the  food, 
somebody  to  keep  the  house,  and  somebody  to 
mend  the  clothes. 

'[96] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

His  reverie  was  broken  in  upon  by  Sally 
Griggs'  voice.  "  Hit  do  seem  lak  you  mighty 
deep  in  fought  dis  evenin',  Brothah  Hay- 
ward.  I  done  spoke  to  you  twicet." 

"Scuse  me,  Sistah  Griggs,  my  min'  has 
been  mighty  deeply  'sorbed  in  a  little  mattah 
o'  doctrine.  What  you  say  to  me?  " 

"  I  say  set  up  to  the  table  an'  have  a  bite  to 
eat;  tain't  much,  but  'sich  ez  I  have' — you 
know  what  de  'postle  said." 

The  preacher's  eyes  glistened  as  they  took 
in  the  well-filled  board.  There  was  fervour 
in  the  blessing  which  he  asked  that  made 
amends  for  its  brevity.  THen  he  fell  to. 

Isaac  Middleton  was  right.  This  woman 
was  a  genius  among  cooks.  Isaac  Middleton 
was  also  wrong.  He,  a  layman,  had  no  right 
to  raise  his  eyes  to  her.  She  was  the  prize  of 
the  elect,  not  the  quarry  of  any  chance  pur 
suer.  As  he  ate  and  talked,  his  admiration 
for  Sally  grew  as  did  his  indignation  at  Mid- 
dleton's  presumption. 

Meanwhile  the  fair  one  plied  him  with 
[97] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

delicacies,  and  paid  deferential  attention 
whenever  he  opened  his  mouth  to  give  vent 
to  an  opinion.  An  admirable  wife  she  would 
make,  indeed. 

At  last  supper  was  over  and  his  chair 
pushed  back  from  the  table.  With  a  long 
sigh  of  content,  he  stretched  his  long  legs, 
tilted  back  and  said :  "  Well,  you  done  settled 
de  case  ez  fur  ez  I  is  concerned." 

"What  dat,  Brothah  Hayward?"  she 
asked. 

"Well,  I  do'  know's  I's  quite  prepahed  to 
tell  you  yit," 

"  Hyeah  now,  don'  you  remembah  oP  Mis' 
Eve?  Taint  nevah  right  to  git  a  lady's  cur'os- 
ity  riz." 

"Oh,  nemmine,  nemmine,  I  ain't  gwine 
keep  yo'  cur'osity  up  long.  You  see,  Sistah 
Griggs,  you  done  'lucidated  one  p'int  to  me 
dis  night  dat  meks  it  plumb  needful  fu'  me  to 
speak." 

She  was  looking  at  him  with  wide  open  eyes 
of  expectation. 

[98] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"  You  made  de  'emark  to-night,  dat  it  ain't 
no  ha'dah  lookin'  out  aftah  two  dan  one." 

"Oh,  Brothah  Hayward!" 

"  Sistah  Sally,  I  reckernizes  dat,  an'  I 
want  to  know  ef  you  won't  let  me  look  out 
aftah  we  two?  Will  you  ma'y  me?  " 

She  picked  nervously  at  her  apron,  and  her 
eyes  sought  the  floor  modestly  as  she  an 
swered,  "Why,  Brothah  Hayward,  I  ain't 
fittin'  fu'  no  sich  eddicated  man  ez  you. 
S'posin'  you'd  git  to  be  pu'sidin'  elder,  er 
bishop,  er  somp'n'  er  othah,  whaih'd  I  be?" 

He  waved  his  hand  magnanimously. 
"  Sistah  Griggs,  Sally,  whatevah  high  place 
I  may  be  fo'destined  to  I  shall  tek  my  wife 
up  wid  me." 

This  was  enough,  and  with  her  hearty  yes, 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Hayward  had  Sister  Sally  close 
in  his  clerical  arms.  They  were  not  through 
their  mutual  felicitations,  which  were  indeed 
so  enthusiastic  as  to  drown  the  sound  of  a 
knocking  at  the  door  and  the  ominous  scrap 
ing  of  feet,  when  the  door  opened  to  admit 
[99] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

Isaac  Middleton,  just  as  the  preacher  was  im 
printing  a  very  decided  kiss  upon  his  fiancee's 
cheek. 

"Wha' — wha'"  exclaimed  Middleton. 

The  preacher  turned.    "  Dat  you,  Isaac?  " 
he  said  complacently.    "  You  must  'scuse  ouah 
'pearance,  we  des  got  ingaged." 

The  fair  Sally  blushed  unseen. 

"What!"  cried  Isaac.  "Ingaged,  aftah 
what  I  tol'  you  to-night."  His  face  was  a 
thundercloud. 

"Yes,  suh." 

"An'  is  dat  de  way  you  Stan'  up  fu'  fo'desti- 
nation?  " 

This  time  it  was  the  preacher's  turn  to 
darken  angrily  as  he  replied,  "  Look  a-hyeah, 
Ike  Middleton,  all  I  got  to  say  to  you  is  dat 
whenevah  a  lady  cook  to  please  me  lak  dis 
lady  do,  an'  whenevah  I  love  one  lak  I  love 
huh,  an'  she  seems  to  love  me  back,  I's  a-gwine 
to  pop  de  question  to  huh,  fo'destination  er  no 
fo'destination,  so  dah!" 

The  moment  was  pregnant  with  tragic  pos- 
[100] 


"He  preached  a  powerful  sermon,  and  at  its  close 
told  something  of  his  life." 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

sibilities.  The  lady  still  stood  with  bowed 
head,  but  her  hand  had  stolen  into  her  minis 
ter's.  Isaac  paused,  and  the  situation  over 
whelmed  him.  Crushed  with  anger  and  de 
feat  he  turned  toward  the  door. 

On  the  threshold  he  paused  again  to  say, 
"Well,  all  I  got  to  say  to  you,  Hayward,  don' 
you  nevah  talk  to  me  no  mor'  nuffin'  'bout 
doctrine!" 


[101] 


OLD  ABE'S  CONVERSION 


OLD  ABE'S  CONVERSION 


i 


Negro  population  of  the  little 
Southern  town  of  Danvers  was  in  a 
state  of  excitement  such  as  it  seldom 


reached  except  at  revivals,  baptisms,  or  on 
Emancipation  Day.  The  cause  of  the  com 
motion  was  the  anticipated  return  of  the  Rev. 
Abram  Dixon's  only  son,  Robert,  who,  having 
taken  up  his  father's  life-work  and  graduated 
at  one  of  the  schools,  had  been  called  to  a  city 
church. 

When  Robert's  ambition  to  take  a  college 
course  first  became  the  subject  of  the  village 
gossip,  some  said  that  it  was  an  attempt  to 
force  Providence.  If  Robert  were  called  to 
preach,  they  said,  he  would  be  endowed  with 
the  power  from  on  high,  and  no  intervention 
of  the  schools  was  necessary.  Abram  Dixon 
himself  had  at  first  rather  leaned  to  this  side 
of  the  case.  He  had  expressed  his  firm  belief 
[105] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

in  the  theory  that  if  you  opened  your  mouth, 
the  Lord  would  fill  it.  As  for  him,  he  had  no 
thought  of  what  he  should  say  to  his  people 
when  he  rose  to  speak.  He  trusted  to  the  in 
spiration  of  the  moment,  and  dashed  blindly 
into  speech,  coherent  or  otherwise. 

Himself  a  plantation  exhorter  of  the  an 
cient  type,  he  had  known  no  school  except 
the  fields  where  he  had  ploughed  and  sowed, 
the  woods  and  the  overhanging  sky.  He  had 
sat  under  no  teacher  except  the  birds  and  the 
trees  and  the  winds  of  heaven.  If  he  did  not 
fail  utterly,  if  his  labour  was  not  without 
fruit,  it  was  because  he  lived  close  to  nature, 
and  so,  near  to  nature's  God.  With  him  re 
ligion  was  a  matter  of  emotion,  and  he  relied 
for  his  results  more  upon  a  command  of  feel 
ing  than  upon  an  appeal  to  reason.  So  it  was 
not  strange  that  he  should  look  upon  his  son's 
determination  to  learn  to  be  a  preacher  as  un 
justified  by  the  real  demands  of  the  ministry. 

But  as  the  boy  had  a  will  of  his  own  and 
his  father  a  boundless  pride  in  him,  the  day 
[106] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

came  when,  despite  wagging  heads,  Robert 
Dixon  went  away  to  be  enrolled  among  the 
students  of  a  growing  college.  Since  then  six 
years  had  passed.  Robert  had  spent  his  school 
vacations  in  teaching;  and  now,  for  the  first 
time,  he  was  coming  home,  a  full-fledged 
minister  of  the  gospel. 

It  was  rather  a  shock  to  the  old  man's  sensi 
bilities  that  his  son's  congregation  should  give 
him  a  vacation,  and  that  the  young  minister 
should  accept;  but  he  consented  to  regard  it 
as  of  the  new  order  of  things,  and  was  glad 
that  he  was  to  have  his  boy  with  him  again, 
although  he  murmured  to  himself,  as  he  read 
his  son's  letter  through  his  bone-bowed  spec 
tacles:  "  Vacation,  vacation,  an'  I  wonder  ef 
he  reckons  de  devil's  goin'  to  take  one  at  de 
same  time?" 

It  was  a  joyous  meeting  between  father  and 
son.  The  old  man  held  his  boy  off  and  looked 
at  him  with  proud  eyes. 

:'Why,  Robbie,"  he  said,  "you — you's  a 
man!" 

[107] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"  That's  what  I'm  trying  to  be,  father."  The 
young  man's  voice  was  deep,  and  comported 
well  with  his  fine  chest  and  broad  shoulders. 

"You's  a  bigger  man  den  yo'  father  ever 
was!"  said  his  mother  admiringly. 

"Oh,  well,  father  never  had  the  advantage 
of  playing  football." 

The  father  turned  on  him  aghast.  "  Play- 
in'  football!"  he  exclaimed.  "You  don't 
mean  to  tell  me  dat  dey  'lowed  men  learnin' 
to  be  preachers  to  play  sich  games?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  they  believe  in  a  sound  mind  in  a 
sound  body,  and  one  seems  to  be  as  necessary 
as  the  other  in  fighting  evil." 

Abram  Dixon  shook  his  head  solemnly. 
The  world  was  turning  upside  down  for  him. 

"Football!"  he  muttered,  as  the  sat  down 
to  supper. 

Robert  was  sorry  that  he  had  spoken  of  the 
game,  because  he  saw  that  it  grieved  his 
father.  He  had  come  intending  to  avoid 
rather  than  to  combat  his  parent's  prejudices. 
There  was  no  condescension  in  his  thought 
[108] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

of  them  and  their  ways.  They  were  different; 
that  was  all.  He  had  learned  new  ways. 
They  had  retained  the  old.  Even  to  himself 
he  did  not  say,  "  But  my  way  is  the  better 


one." 


His  father  was  very  full  of  eager  curiosity 
as  to  his  son's  conduct  of  his  church,  and  the 
son  was  equally  glad  to  talk  of  his  work,  for 
his  whole  soul  was  in  it. 

"  We  do  a  good  deal  in  the  way  of  charity 
work  among  the  churchless  and  almost  home 
less  city  children;  and,  father,  it  would  do 
your  heart  good  if  you  could  only  see  the  little 
ones  gathered  together  learning  the  first 
principles  of  decent  living." 

"  Mebbe  so,"  replied  the  father  doubtfully, 
"  but  what  you  doin'  in  de  way  of  teachin'  dem 
to  die  decent?" 

The  son  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then 
he  answered  gently,  "  We  think  that  one  is  the 
companion  of  the  other,  and  that  the  best  way 
to  prepare  them  for  the  future  is  to  keep  them 
clean  and  good  in  the  present." 
[109] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"  Do  you  give  'em  good  strong  doctern,  er 
do  you  give  'em  milk  and  water?  " 

"  I  try  to  tell  them  the  truth  as  I  see  it  and 
believe  it.  I  try  to  hold  up  before  them 
the  right  and  the  good  and  the  clean  and 
beautiful." 

"Humph!"  exclaimed  the  old  man,  and  a 
look  of  suspicion  flashed  across  his  dusky  face. 
"  I  want  you  to  preach  fer  me  Sunday." 

It  was  as  if  he  had  said,  "  I  have  no  faith  in 
your  style  of  preaching  the  gospel.  I  am 
going  to  put  you  to  the  test." 

Robert  faltered.  He  knew  his  preaching 
would  not  please  his  father  or  his  people,  and 
he  shrank  from  the  ordeal.  It  seemed  like 
setting  them  all  at  defiance  and  attempting  to 
enforce  his  ideas  over  their  own.  Then  a 
perception  of  his  cowardice  struck  him,  and 
he  threw  off  the  feeling  that  was  possessing 
him.  He  looked  up  to  find  his  father  watch 
ing  him  keenly,  and  he  remembered  that  he 
had  not  yet  answered. 

"I  had  not  thought  of  preaching  here," 
[no] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

he  said,  "  but  I  will  relieve  you  if  you  wish 


it." 


uDe  folks  will  want  to  hyeah  you  an'  see 
what  you  kin  do,"  pursued  his  father  tact 
lessly.  "  You  know  dey  was  a  lot  of  'em  dat 
said  I  oughtn't  ha'  let  you  go  away  to  school. 
I  hope  you'll  silence  'em." 

Robert  thought  of  the  opposition  his 
father's  friends  had  shown  to  his  ambitions, 
and  his  face  grew  hot  at  the  memory.  He 
felt  his  entire  inability  to  please  them  now. 

"  I  don't  know,  father,  that  I  can  silence 
those  who  opposed  my  going  away  or  even 
please  those  who  didn't,  but  I  shall  try  to 
please  One." 

It  was  now  Thursday  evening,  and  he  Had 
until  Saturday  night  to  prepare  his  sermon. 
He  knew  Danvers,  and  remembered  what  a 
chill  fell  on  its  congregations,  white  or  black, 
when  a  preacher  appeared  before  them  with 
a  manuscript  or  notes.  So,  out  of  concession 
to  their  prejudices,  he  decided  not  to  write  his 
sermon,  but  to  go  through  it  carefully  and  get 
[in] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

it  well  in  hand.  His  work  was  often  inter 
fered  with  by  the  frequent  summons  to  see  old 
friends  who  stayed  long,  not  talking  much, 
but  looking  at  him  with  some  awe  and  a  good 
deal  of  contempt.  His  trial  was  a  little  sorer 
than  he  had  expected,  but  he  bore  it  all 
with  the  good-natured  philosophy  which  his 
school  life  and  work  in  a  city  had  taught 
him. 

The  Sunday  dawned,  a  beautiful,  Southern 
summer  morning;  the  lazy  hum  of  the  bees 
and  the  scent  of  wild  honeysuckle  were  in  the 
air;  the  Sabbath  was  full  of  the  quiet  and 
peace  of  God ;  and  yet  the  congregation  which 
filled  the  little  chapel  at  Danvers  came  with 
restless  and  turbulent  hearts,  and  their  faces 
said  plainly:  "Rob  Dixon,  we  have  not 
come  here  to  listen  to  God's  word.  We  have 
come  here  to  put  you  on  trial.  Do  you  hear? 
On  trial." 

And  the  thought,  "  On  trial,"  was  ringing 
in  the  young  minister's  mind  as  he  rose  to 
speak  to  them.  His  sermon  was  a  very  <quiet, 

[112] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

practical  one;  a  sermon  that  sought  to  bring 
religion  before  them  as  a  matter  of  every-day 
life.  It  was  altogether  different  from  the  tor 
rent  of  speech  that  usually  flowed  from  that 
pulpit.  The  people  grew  restless  under  this 
spiritual  reserve.  They  wanted  something  to 
sanction,  something  to  shout  for,  and  here  was 
this  man  talking  to  them  as  simply  and  quietly 
as  if  he  were  not  in  church. 

As  Uncle  Isham  Jones  said,  "  De  man  never 
fetched  an  amen";  and  the  people  resented  his 
ineffectiveness.  Even  Robert's  father  sat 
with  his  head  bowed  in  his  hands,  broken  and 
ashamed  of  his  son;  and  when,  without  a 
flourish,  the  preacher  sat  down,  after  talking 
twenty-two  minutes  by  the  clock,  a  shiver  of 
surprise  ran  over  the  whole  church.  His 
father  had  never  pounded  the  desk  for  less 
than  an  hour. 

Disappointment,  even  disgust,  was  written 

on  every  face.       The  singing  was  spiritless, 

and  as  the  people  filed  out  of  church  and 

gathered  in  knots  about  the  door,  the  old-time 

[113] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

head-shaking    was    resumed,    and   the    com 
ments  were  many  and  unfavourable. 

"Dat's  what  his  schoolin'  done  fo'  him," 
said  one. 

"  It  wasn't  nothin'  mo'n  a  lecter,"  was 
another's  criticism. 

"  Put  him  'side  o'  his  father,"  said  one  of 
the  Rev.  Abram  Dixon's  loyal  members,  "  and 
bless  my  soul,  de  oV  man  would  preach  all 
roun'  him,  and  he  ain't  been  to  no  college, 
neither!" 

Robert  and  his  father  walked  home  in 
silence  together.  When  they  were  in  the 
house,  the  old  man  turned  to  his  son  and 
said: 

"  Is  dat  de  way  dey  teach  you  to  preach  at 
college?" 

"  I  followed  my  instructions  as  nearly  as 
possible,  father." 

"Well,    Lawd    he'p    dey   preachin',    den! 
Why,  befo'  I'd  ha'  been  in  dat  pulpit  five 
minutes,  I'd  ha'  had  dem  people  moanin'  an' 
hollerin'  all  over  de  church." 
[114] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"And  would  they  have  lived  any  more 
cleanly  the  next  day?" 

The  old  man  looked  at  his  son  sadly,  and 
shook  his  head  as  at  one  of  the  unenlightened. 

Robert  did  not  preach  in  his  father's  church 
again  before  his  visit  came  to  a  close;  but  be 
fore  going  he  said,  "  I  want  you  to  promise 
me  you'll  come  up  and  visit  me,  father.  I 
want  you  to  see  the  work  I  am  trying  to  do. 
I  don't  say  that  my  way  is  best  or  that  my  work 
is  a  higher  work,  but  I  do  want  you  to  see  that 
I  am  in  earnest." 

"  I  ain't  doubtin'  you  mean  well,  Robbie," 
said  his  father,  "but  I  guess  I'd  be  a  good 
deal  out  o'  place  up  thaih." 

"No,  you  wouldn't,  father.  You  come  up 
and  see  me.  Promise  me." 

And  the  old  man  promised. 
It  was  not,  however,  until  nearly  a  year  later 
that  the  Rev.  Abram  Dixon  went  up  to  visit 
his  son's  church.     Robert  met  him  at  the  sta 
tion,   and  took  him  to  the   little   parsonage 
which  the  young  clergyman's  people  had  pro- 
[115] 


THE   HEART   OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

vided  for  him.  It  was  a  very  simple  place, 
and  an  aged  woman  served  the  young  man  as 
cook  and  caretaker;  but  Abram  Dixon  was 
astonished  at  what  seemed  to  him  both  vain 
glory  and  extravagance. 

"  Ain't  you  livin'  kin'  o'  high  fo'  yo'  raisin', 
Robbie?"  he  asked. 

The  young  man  laughed.  "  If  you'd  see 
how  some  of  the  people  live  here,  father,  you'd 
hardly  say  so." 

Abram  looked  at  the  chintz-covered  sofa 
and  shook  his  head  at  its  luxury,  but  Robert, 
on  coming  back  after  a  brief  absence,  found 
his  father  sound  asleep  upon  the  comfortable 
lounge. 

On  the  next  day  they  went  out  together  to 
see  something  of  the  city.  By  the  habit  of 
years,  Abram  Dixon  was  an  early  riser,  and 
his  son  was  like  him;  so  they  were  abroad 
somewhat  before  business  was  astir  in  the 
town.  They  walked  through  the  commer 
cial  portion  and  down  along  the  wharves  and 
levees.  On  every  side  the  same  sight  assailed 
Fn61 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

their  eyes:  black  boys  of  all  ages  and  sizes,  the 
waifs  and  strays  of  the  city,  lay  stretched  here 
and  there  on  the  wharves  or  curled  on  door- 
sills,  stealing  what  sleep  they  could  before  the 
relentless  day  should  drive  them  forth  to  beg 
a  pittance  for  subsistence. 

"  Such  as  these  we  try  to  get  into  our  flock 
and  do  something  for,"  said  Robert. 

His  father  looked  on  sympathetically,  and 
yet  hardly  with  full  understanding.  There 
was  poverty  in  his  own  little  village,  yes,  even 
squalour,  but  he  had  never  seen  anything  just 
like  this.  At  home  almost  everyone  found 
some  open  door,  and  rare  was  the  wanderer 
who  slept  out-of-doors  except  from  choice. 

At  nine  o'clock  they  went  to  the  police 
court,  and  the  old  minister  saw  many  of  his 
race  appear  as  prisoners,  receiving  brief  at 
tention  and  long  sentences.  Finally  a  boy 
was  arraigned  for  theft.  He  was  a  little, 
wobegone  fellow  hardly  ten  years  of  age.  He 
was  charged  with  stealing  cakes  from  a 
bakery.  The  judge  was  about  to  deal  with 
[117] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

him  as  quickly  as  with  the  others,  and  Abram's 
heart  bled  for  the  child,  when  he  saw  a  negro 
call  the  judge's  attention.  He  turned  to  find 
that  Robert  had  left  his  side.  There  was  a 
whispered  consultation,  and  then  the  old 
preacher  heard  with  joy,  "As  this  is  his  first 
offence  and  a  trustworthy  person  comes  for 
ward  to  take  charge  of  him,  sentence  upon  the 
prisoner  will  be  suspended." 

Robert  came  back  to  his  father  holding  the 
boy  by  the  hand,  and  together  they  made  their 
way  from  the  crowded  room. 

"I'm  so  glad!  I'm  so  glad!"  said  the  old 
man  brokenly. 

"We  often  have  to  do  this.  We  try  to  save 
them  from  the  first  contact  with  the  prison  and 
all  that  it  means.  There  is  no  reformatory 
for  black  boys  here,  and  they  may  not  go  to 
the  institutions  for  the  white;  so  for  the  slight 
est  offence  they  are  sent  to  jail,  where  they  are 
placed  with  the  most  hardened  criminals. 
When  released  they  are  branded  forever,  and 
their  course  is  usually  downward." 
[118] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

He  spoke  in  a  low  voice,  that  what  he  said 
might  not  reach  the  ears  of  the  little  ragamuf 
fin  who  trudged  by  his  side. 

Abram  looked  down  on  the  child  with  a 
sympathetic  heart. 

"What  made  you  steal  dem  cakes?"  he 
asked  kindly. 

"  I  was  hongry,"  was  the  simple  reply. 

The  old  man  said  no  more  until  he  had 
reached  the  parsonage,  and  then  when  he  saw 
how  the  little  fellow  ate  and  how  tenderly  his 
son  ministered  to  him,  he  murmured  to  him 
self,  "  Feed  my  lambs " ;  and  then  turning  to 
his  son,  he  said,  "Robbie,  dey's  some'p'n  in 
rdis,  dey's  some'p'n  in  it,  I  tell  you." 

That  night  there  was  a  boy's  class  in  the 
lower  room  of  Robert  Dixon's  little  church. 
Boys  of  all  sorts  and  conditions  were  there, 
and  Abram  listened  as  his  son  told  them  the 
old,  sweet  stories  in  the  simplest  possible  man 
ner  and  talked  to  them  in  his  cheery,  practical 
wray.  The  old  preacher  looked  into  the  eyes 
of  the  street  gamins  about  him,  and  he  began 
[119] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

to  wonder.  Some  of  them  were  fierce,  un 
ruly-looking  youngsters,  inclined  to  meanness 
and  rowdyism,  but  one  and  all,  they  seemed 
under  the  spell  of  their  leader's  voice.  At 
last  Robert  said,  "  Boys,  this  is  my  father. 
He's  a  preacher,  too.  I  want  you  to  come 
up  and  shake  hands  with  him."  Then  they 
crowded  round  the  old  man  readily  and 
heartily,  and  when  they  were  outside  the 
church,  he  heard  them  pause  for  a  moment, 
and  then  three  rousing  cheers  rang  out  with 
the  vociferated  explanation,  "  Fo'  de  minister's 
pap!" 

Abram  held  his  son's  hand  long  that  night, 
and  looked  with  tear-dimmed  eyes  at  the  boy. 

"  I  didn't  understan',"  he  said.     "  I  didn't 
understan'." 

"You'll  preach  for  me  Sunday,  father?" 

"  I    wouldn't    daih,    honey.      I    wouldn't 
daih." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  will,  pap." 

He  had  not  used  the  word  for  a  long  time, 
and  at  sound  of  it  his  father  yielded. 

[120] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

It  was  a  strange  service  that  Sunday  morn 
ing.  The  son  introduced  the  father,  and  the 
father,  looking  at  his  son,  who  seemed  so  short 
a  time  ago  unlearned  in  the  ways  of  the  world, 
gave  as  his  text,  "A  little  child  shall  lead 
them." 

He  spoke  of  his  own  conceit  and  vainglory, 
the  pride  of  his  age  and  experience,  and  then 
he  told  of  the  lesson  he  had  learned.  "  Why, 
people,"  he  said,  "  I  feels  like  a  new  convert!" 

It  was  a  gentler  gospel  than  he  had  ever 
preached  before,  and  in  the  congregation  there 
were  many  eyes  as  wet  as  his  own. 

"  Robbie,"  he  said,  when  the  service  was 
over,  "  I  believe  I  had  to  come  up  here  to  be 
converted."  And  Robbie  smiled. 


[121] 


THE   RACE   QUESTION 


s 


VI 
THE    RACE    QUESTION 

GENE— Race  track.      Enter  old  col 
oured  man,  seating  himself. 

"  Oomph,  oomph.  De  work  of  de 
'devil  sho'  do  p'ospah.  How  'do,  suh?  Des 
toPable,  thankee,  suh.  How  you  come  on? 
Oh,  I  was  des  a-sayin'  how  de  wo'k  of  de  oV 
boy  do  p'ospah.  Doesn't  I  frequent  the  race 
track?  No,  suh;  no,  suh.  I's  Baptis'  myse'f, 
an'  I  'low  hit's  all  devil's  doin's.  Wouldn't  'a' 
be'n  hyeah  to-day,  but  I  got  a  boy  named  Jim 
dat's  long  gone  in  sin  an'  he  gwine  ride  one 
dem  hosses.  Oomph",  dat  boy!  I  sut'ny  has 
talked  to  him  and  labohed  wid  him  night  an' 
day,  but  it  was  allers  in  vain,  an'  I's  feahed 
dat  de  day  of  his  reckonin'  is  at  han'. 

"Ain't  I  nevah  been  intrusted  in  racin'? 

Humph,  you  don't  s'pose  I  been  dead  all  my 

life,  does  you?      What  you  laffin'  at?      Oh, 

scuse  me,  scuse  me,  you  unnerstan'  what  I 

[125] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

means.  You  don'  give  a  ol'  man  time  to  splain 
hisse'f.  What  I  means  is  dat  dey  has  been 
days  when  I  walked  in  de  counsels  of  de  on- 
gawdly  and  set  in  de  seats  of  sinnahs ;  and  long 
erbout  dem  times  I  did  tek  most  ovahly  strong 
to  racin'. 

"  How  long  dat  been?  Oh,  dat's  way  long 
back,  'fo'  I  got  religion,  mo'n  thuty  years  ago, 
Hough  I  got  to  own  I  has  fell  from  grace  sev 
eral  times  sense. 

"  Yes,  suh,  I  ust  to  ride.  Ki-yi !  I  nevah 
furgit  de  day  dat  my  ol'  Mas'  Jack  put  me  on 
June  Boy,'  his  black  geldin',  an'  say  to  me, 
'  Si,'  says  he,  c  if  you  don'  ride  de  tail  offen 
Cunnel  Scott's  mare,  "No  Quit,"  I's  gwine  to 
larrup  you  twell  you  cain't  set  in  de  saddle  no 
mo'.'  Hyah,  hyah.  My  ol'  Mas'  was  a 
mighty  han'  fu'  a  joke.  I  knowed  he  wan't 
gwine  to  do  nuffin'  to  me. 

"Did  I  win?      Why,  whut  you  spec'  I's 
doin'  hyeah  ef  I  hadn'  winned?     W'y,  ef  I'd 
'a'  let  dat  Scott  maih  beat  my  '  June  Boy'  I'd 
'a'  drowned  myse'f  in  Bull  Skin  Crick. 
[126] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"Yes,  suh,  I  winned;  w'y,  at  de  finish  I 
come  down  dat  track  lak  hit  was  de  Jedgment 
Day  an'  I  was  de  las'  one  up !  Ef  I  didn't  race 
dat  main's  tail  clean  off,  I  'low  I  made  hit  do 
a  lot  o'  switchin'.  An'  aftah  dat  my  wife 
Mandy  she  ma'ed  me.  Hyah,  hyah,  I  ain't 
bin  much  on  hol'in'  de  reins  sence. 

"  Sh!  dey  comin'  in  to  wa'm  up,  Dat  Jim, 
dat  Jim,  dat  my  boy;  you  nasty  putrid  little 
rascal.  Des  a  hundred  an'  eight,  suh,  des  a 
hundred  an'  eight.  Yas,  suh,  dat's  my  Jim; 
I  don'  know  whaih  he  gits  his  dev'ment  at. 

"What's  de  mattah  wid  dat  boy?  Whyn't 
he  hunch  hisse'f  up  on  dat  saddle  right?  Jim, 
Jim,  whyn't  you  limber  up,  boy;  hunch  yo'se'f 
up  on  dat  hoss  lak  you  belonged  to  him  and 
knowed  you  was  dah.  What  I  done  showed 
you?  De  black  raskil,  goin'  out  dah  tryin'  to 
disgrace  his  own  daddy.  Hyeah  he  come 
back.  Dat's  bettah,  you  scoun'ril. 

"  Dat's  a  right  smaht-lookin'  hoss  he's  a-rid- 
in',  but  I  ain't  a-trustin'  dat  bay  wid  de  white 
feet — dat  is,  not  altogethah.  She's  a  favour- 
[127] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

wright  too;  but  dey's  sumpin'  else  in  dis  worP 
sides  playin'  favourwrights.  Jim  bettah  had 
win  dis  race.  His  boss  ain't  a  five  to  one  shot, 
but  I  spec's  to  go  way  fum  hyeah  wid  money 
ernuff  to  mek  a  donation  on  de  pa'sonage. 

"Does  I  bet?  Well,  I  don'  des  call  hit 
bettin' ;  but  I  resks  a  little  w'en  I  t'inks  I  kin 
he'p  de  cause.  'Tain't  gamblin',  o'  co'se;  I 
wouldn't  gamble  fu  nothin',  dough  my  ol' 
Mastah  did  ust  to  say  dat  a  honest  gamblah 
was  ez  good  ez  a  hones'  preachah  an'  mos' 
nigh  ez  skace. 

"Look  out  dah,  man,  dey's  off,  dat  nasty 
bay  maih  wid  de  white  feet  leadin'  right  fu'm 
de  pos'.  I  knowed  it!  I  knowed  it!  I  had 
my  eye  on  huh  all  de  time.  Oh,  Jim,  Jim, 
why  didn't  you  git  in  bettah,  way  back  dah 
fouf?  Dah  go  de  gong!  I  knowed  dat 
wasn't  no  staht.  Troop  back  dah,  you  raskils, 
hyah,  hyah. 

"  I  wush  dat  boy  wouldn't  do  so  much  jum- 
mying  erroun'  wid  dat  hoss.  Fust  t'ing  he 
know  he  ain't  gwine  to  know  whaih  he's  at. 

[128] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"  Dah,  dah  dey  go  ag'in.  Hit's  a  sho'  t'ing 
dis  time.  Bettah,  Jim,  bettah.  Dey  didn't 
leave  you  dis  time.  Hug  dat  bay  mare,  hug 
her  close,  boy.  Don't  press  dat  hoss  yit.  He 
holdin'  back  a  lot  o'  t'ings. 

"He's  gamin'!  doggone  my  cats,  he's  gain- 
in'!  an'  dat  hoss  o'  his'n  gwine  des  ez  stiddy  ez 
a  rockin'-chair.  Jim  allus  was  a  good  boy. 

"  Confound  these  spec's,  I  cain't  see  'em 
skacely ;  huh,  you  say  dey's  neck  an'  neck;  now 
I  see  'em!  now  I  see  'em!  and  Jimmy's  a-ridin' 
like—  Huh,  huh,  I  laik  to  said  sumpin'. 

"  De  bay  maih's  done  huh  bes',  she's  done 
huh  bes'!  Dey's  turned  into  the  stretch  an' 
still  see-sawin'.  Let  him  out,  Jimmy,  let  him 
out!  Dat  boy  done  th'owed  de  reins  away. 
Come  on,  Jimmy,  come  on!  He's  leadin'  by 
a  nose.  Come  on,  I  tell  you,  you  black  rap 
scallion,  come  on!  Give  'em  hell,  Jimmy! 
give  'em  hell!  Under  de  wire  an'  a  len'th 
ahead.  Doggone  my  cats!  wake  me  up  w'en 
dat  othah  hoss  comes  in. 

"No,  suh,  I  ain't  gwine  stay  no  longah,  I 
[  129] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

don't  approve  o'  racin',  I's  gwine  'roun'  an' 
see  dis  hyeah  bookmakah  an'  den  I's  gwine 
dreckly  home,  suh,  dreckly  home.  I's  Bap- 
tis'  myse'f,  an'  I  don't  approve  o'  no  sich 
doin's!" 


[130] 


A   DEFENDER    OF    THE   FAITH 


VII 
A  DEFENDER   OF   THE   FAITH 

THERE  was  a  very  animated  discus 
sion  going  on,  on  the  lower  floor  of 
the  house  Number  Ten  "  D  "  Street. 
House  Number  Ten  was  the  middle  one  of  a 
row  of  more  frames,  which  formed  what  was 
put  down  on  the  real  estate  agent's  list  as  a 
coloured  neighbourhood.  The  inhabitants 
of  the  little  cottages  were  people  so  poor  that 
they  were  constantly  staggering  on  the  verge 
of  the  abyss,  which  they  had  been  taught  to 
dread  and  scorn,  and  why,  clearly.  Life  with 
them  was  no  dream,  but  a  hard,  terrible  real 
ity,  which  meant  increasing  struggle,  and  little 
wonder  then  that  the  children  of  such  parents 
should  see  the  day  before  Christmas  come 
without  hope  of  any  holiday  cheer. 

Christmas;  what  did  it  mean  to  them?  The 
pitiful  little  dark  ragmuffins,  save  that  the 
happy,  well-dressed  people  who  passed  the 
[  i33  I 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

shanties  seemed  further  away  from  their  life, 
save  that  mother  toiled  later  in  the  evening  at 
her  work,  if  there  was  work,  and  that  father 
drank  more  gin  and  prayed  louder  in  conse 
quence;  save  that,  perhaps — and  there  was 
always  a  donation — that  there  might  be  a  little 
increase  in  the  amount  of  cold  victuals  that 
big  sister  brought  home,  and  there  might  be 
turkey-dressing  in  it. 

But  there  was  a  warm  discussion  in  Number 
Ten,  and  that  is  the  principal  thing.  The 
next  in  importance  is  that  Miss  Arabella  Coe, 
reporter,  who  had  been  down  that  way  look 
ing  mainly  for  a  Christmas  story,  heard  the 
sound  of  voices  raised  in  debate,  and  paused 
to  listen.  It  was  not  a  very  polite  thing  for 
Miss  Coe  to  do,  but  then  Miss  Coe  was  a  re 
porter  and  reporters  are  not  scrupulous  about 
being  polite  when  there  is  anything  to  hear. 
Besides,  the  pitch  to  which  the  lusty  young 
voices  within  were  raised  argued  that  the 
owners  did  not  care  if  the  outside  world  shared 
in  tHe  conversation.  So  Arabella  listened, 
[134] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

and  after  a  while  she  passed  through  the  gate 
and  peeped  into  the  room  between  the  broken 
slats  of  a  shutter. 

It  was  a  mean  little  place,  quite  what  might 
be  expected  from  its  exterior.  A  cook  stove 
sat  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  with  a  smoky 
fire  in  it,  and  about  it  were  clustered  four  or 
five  black  children  ranging  from  a  toddler  of 
two  to  a  boy  of  ten.  They  all  showed  differ 
ing  degrees  of  dirt  and  raggedness,  but  all 
were  far  and  beyond  the  point  of  respect 
ability. 

One  of  the  group,  the  older  boy,  sat  upon 
the  bed  and  was  holding  forth  to  his  brothers 
and  sisters  not  without  many  murmurs  of 
doubt  and  disbelief. 

"  No,"  he  was  saying,  "  I  tell  you  dey  hain't 
no  such  thing  as  a  Santy  Claus.  Dat's  somep'n 
dat  yo'  folks  jes'  git  up  to  make  you  be  good 
long  'bout  Christmas  time.  I  know." 

"  But  Tom,  you  know  what  mammy  said," 
said  a  dreamy-eyed  little  chap,  who  sat  on  a 
broken  stool  with  his  chin  on  his  hands. 
[135] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"Aw,  mammy,"  said  the  orator,  "she's  jes' 
a-stuffin'  you.  She  don'  believe  in  no  Santy 
Claus  hersel',  less'n  why'nt  he  bring  huh  de 
dress,  she  prayed  fu'  last  Christmas."  He 
was  very  wise,  this  old  man  of  ten  years,  and 
he  had  sold  papers  on  the  avenue  where  many 
things  are  learned,  both  good  and  bad. 

"But  what  you  got  to  say  about  pappy?" 
pursued  the  believer.  "  He  say  dey's  a  Santy 
Claus,  and  dat  he  comes  down  de  chimbly; 
and " 

"WHut's  de  mattaH  wid  you;  look  at  dat 
stove  pipe;  how  you  s'pose  anybody  go'n'  to 
git  in  hyeah  th'oo  de  chimbly?" 

They  all  looked  up  at  the  narrow,  rusty 
stove  pipe  and  the  sigh  of  hopelessness  brought 
the  tears  to  Arabella's  eyes.  The  children 
seemed  utterly  nonplussed,  and  Tom  was 
swelling  at  his  triumpH.  "  How's  any  Santy 
Claus  goV  to  come  down  th'oo  that,  I  want 
to  know,"  he  repeated. 

But  the  faith  of  childhood  is  stronger  than 
reason.  Tom's  little  sister  piped  up,  "  I  don't 
[136] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

know  how,  but  he  comes  th'roo'  that  away  any 
how.  He  brung  Mamie  Davith  a  doll  and  it 
had  thoot  on  it  out  o'  the  chimbly." 

It  was  now  Tom's  turn  to  be  stumped,  but 
he  wouldn't  let  it  be  known.  He  only  said, 
"  Aw,"  contemptuously  and  coughed  for  more 
crushing  arguments, 

"  I  knows  dey's  a  Santy  Claus,"  said  dreamy- 
eyed  Sam. 

"Ef  dey  is  why'n't  he  never  come  here?" 
retorted  Tom. 

"  I  jes'  been  thinkin'  maybe  ouah  house  is 
so  little  he  miss  it  in  de  night;  dey  says  he's  a 
ol'  man  an'  I  'low  his  sight  ain'  good." 

Tom  was  stricken  into  silence  for  a  moment 
by  this  entirely  new  view  of  the  matter,  and 
then  finding  no  answer  to  it,  he  said  "Aw" 
again  and  looked  superior,  but  warningly 
so 

"  Maybe  Thanty's  white  an'  don'  go  to  see 
col'red  people,"  said  the  little  girl. 

"  But  I  do  know  coloured  people's  houses 
he's  been  at,"  contended  Sam.  "Aw,  dem 
[i37] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

col'red  folks  dat's  got  the  money,  dem's  de 
only  ones  dat  Santy  Claus  fin's,  you  bet." 

Arabella  at  the  window  shuddered  at  the 
tone  of  the  sceptic;  it  reminded  her  so  much 
of  the  world  she  knew,  and  it  was  hard  to  be 
lieve  that  her  friends  who  prided  themselves 
on  their  unbelief  could  have  anything  in  com 
mon  with  a  little  coloured  newsboy  down  on 
"  D"  Street. 

"Tell  you  what,"  said  Sam  again,  "let's  try 
an'  see  if  dey  is  a  Santy.  We'll  put  a  light  in 
the  winder,  so  if  he's  ol'  he  can  see  us  anyhow, 
an'  we'll  pray  right  hard  fu'  him  to  come." 

"  Aw,"  said  Tom. 

"  Ith  been  good  all  thisri  month,"  chirped 
the  little  girl. 

The  other  children  joined  with  enthusiasm 
in  Sam's  plan,  though  Tom  sat  upon  the  bed 
and  looked  scornfully  on. 

Arabella  escaped  from  the  window  just  as 

Sam  brought  the  smoky  lamp  and  set  it  on 

the  sill,  but  she  still  stood  outside  the  palings 

of  the  fence  and  looked  in.     She  saw  four  lit- 

[138] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

tie  forms  get  down  on  their  knees  and  she 
crept  up  near  again  to  hear. 

Following  Sam's  lead  they  began,  "Oh, 
Santy,"  but  Tom's  voice  broke  in,  "  Don't  you 
know  the  Lord  don't  'low  you  to  pray  to  no 
body  but  Him?" 

Sam  paused,  puzzled  for  a  minute,  then  he 
led  on :  "  Please  'scuse,  good  Lord,  we  started 
wrong,  but  won't  you  please,  sir,  send  Santy 
Clause  around.  Amen."  And  they  got  up 
from  their  knees  satisfied. 

"  Aw,"  said  Tom  as  Arabella  was  turning 
wet-eyed  away. 

It  was  a  good  thing  the  reporter  left  as  soon 
as  she  did,  for  in  a  few  minutes  a  big  woman 
pushed  in  at  the  gate  and  entered  the  house. 

"  Mammy,  mammy,"  shrieked  the  children. 

"  Lawsy,  me,"  said  Martha,  laughing, 
"who  evah  did  see  sich  children?  Bless  dey 
hearts,  an'  dey  done  sot  dey  lamp  in  de  win 
der,  too,  so's  dey  po'  ol'  mammy  kin  see  to  git 


in." 


As  she  spoke  she  was  taking  the  lamp  away 

[139] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

to  set  it  on  the  table  where  she  had  placed  her 
basket,  but  the  cry  of  the  children  stopped  her. 
"  Oh,  no,  mammy,  don't  take  it,  don't  take  it, 
dat's  to  light  Santy  Claus  in." 

She  paused  a  minute  bewildered  and  then 
the  light  broke  over  her  face.  She  smiled  and 
then  a  rush  of  tears  quenched  the  smile.  She 
gathered  the  children  into  her  arms  and  said, 
"  Fs  feared,  honey,  oP  man  Santy  ain'  gwine 
fu'  you  to-night." 

"  Wah'd  I  tell  you?"  sneered  Tom. 

"  You  hush  yo'  mouf ,"  said  his  mother,  and 
she  left  the  lamp  where  it  was. 

As  Arabella  Coe  wended  her  way  home 
that  night  her  brain  was  busy  with  many 
thoughts.  "  I've  got  my  story  at  last,"  she 
told  herself ?  "  and  I'll  go  on  up  and  write  it." 
But  she  did  not  go  up  to  write  it.  She  came  to 
the  parting  of  the  ways.  One  led  home,  the 
other  to  the  newspaper  office  where  she 
worked.  She  laughed  nervously,  and  took 
the  former  way.  Once  in  her  room  she  went 
through  her  small  store  of  savings.  There 
[  140] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

was  very  little  there,  then  she  looked  down 
ruefully  at  her  worn  boots.  She  did  need  a 
new  pair.  Then,  holding  her  money  in  her 
hand,  she  sat  down  to  think. 

"It's  really  a  shame,"  she  said  to  herself, 
"  those  children  will  have  no  Christmas  at  allt 
anH  they'll  never  believe  in  Santa  Claus  again. 
They  will  lose  their  faith  forever  and  from 
this  it  will  go  to  other  things."  She  sat  there 
dreaming  for  a  long  while  and  the  vision  of  a 
very  different  childhood  came  before  her  eyes. 

"  Dear  old  place,"  she  murmured  softly,  "  I 
believed  in  Santa  Claus  until  I  was  thirteen, 
and  that  oldest  boy  is  scarcely  ten."  Suddenly 
she  sprung  to  her  feet.  "  Hooray,"  she  cried, 
"  I'll  be  defender  of  the  faith,"  and  she  went 
out  into  the  lighted  streets  again. 

The  shopkeepers  looked  queerly  at  Arabella 
that  night  as  she  bought  as  if  she  were  the 
mother  of  a  large  and  growing  family,  and 
she  appeared  too  young  for  that.  Finally, 
there  was  a  dress  for  mother. 

She  carried  them  down  on  "  D  "  Street  an'd 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

placed  them  stealthily  at  the  door  of  Number 
Ten.  She  put  a  note  among  the  things,  which 
read :  "  I  am  getting  old  and  didn't  see  your 
house  last  year,  also  I  am  getting  fat  and 
couldn't  get  down  that  little  stove  pipe  of 
yours  this  year.  You  must  excuse  me.  Santa 
Claus."  Then  looking  wilfully  at  her  shoes, 
but  nevertheless  with  a  glow  on  her  face,  she 
went  up  to  the  office  to  write  her  story. 

There  were  joyous  times  at  Number  Ten 
the  next  day.  Mother  was  really  surprised, 
and  the  children  saw  it. 

"Wha'd  I  tell  you,"  said  dreamy  Sam. 

Tom  said  nothing  then,  but  when  he  went 
down  to  the  avenue  to  sell  the  morning  papers, 
all  resplendent  in  a  new  muffler,  he  strode  up 
to  a  boy  and  remarked  belligerently,  "  Say,  if 
you  says  de  ain't  no  Santy  Claus  again,  I'll 
punch  yo'  head." 


[142] 


CAHOOTS 


VIII 
CAHOOTS 

IN  the  centre  of  the  quaint  old  Virginia 
grave-yard  stood  two  monuments  side  by 
side — two  plain  granite  shafts  exactly 
alike.  On  one  was  inscribed  the  name  Robert 
Vaughan  Fairfax  and  the  year  1864.  On  the 
other  was  the  simple  and  perplexing  inscrip 
tion,  "  Cahoots."  Nothing  more. 

The  place  had  been  the  orchard  of  one  of 
the  ante-bellum  mansions  before  the  dead  that 
were  brought  back  from  the  terrible  field  of 
Malvern  Hill  and  laid  there  had  given  it  a 
start  as  a  cemetery.  Many  familiar  names 
were  chiselled  on  the  granite  head-stones,  and 
anyone  conversant  with  Virginia  genealogy 
would  have  known  them  to  belong  to  some  of 
the  best  families  of  the  Old  Dominion.  But 
"  Cahoots," — who  or  what  was  he? 

My  interest,  not  to  say  curiosity,  was 
aroused.  There  must  be  a  whole  story  in 
[i45l 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

those  two  shafts  with  their  simple  inscriptions, 
a  life-drama  or  perhaps  a  tragedy.  And  who 
was  more  likely  to  know  it  than  the  postmaster 
of  the  quaint  little  old  town.  Just  after  the 
war,  as  if  tired  with  its  exertions  to  repel  the 
invader,  the  old  place  had  fallen  asleep  and 
was  still  drowsing. 

I  left  the  cemetery — if  such  it  could  be 
called — and  wended  my  way  up  the  main 
street  to  the  ancient  building  which  did  duty 
as  post-office.  The  man  in  charge,  a  griz 
zled  old  fellow  with  an  empty  sleeve,  sat  be 
hind  a  small  screen.  He  looked  up  as  I 
entered  and  put  out  his  hand  toward  the  mail 
boxes,  waiting  for  me  to  mention  my  name. 
But  instead  I  said :  "  I  am  not  expecting  any 
mail.  I  only  wanted  to  ask  a  few  questions." 

"Well,  sir,  what  can  I  do  for  you?"  he 
asked  with  some  interest. 

"  I've  just  been  up  there  walking  through 
the  cemetery,"  I  returned,  "and  I  am  anxious 
to  know  the  story,  if  there  be  one,  of  two 
monuments  which  I  saw  there." 
[146] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"You  mean  Fairfax  and  Cahoots." 

"Yes." 

"  You're  a  stranger  about  here,  of  course." 

"Yes,"  I  said  again,  "and  so  there  is  a 
story?" 

"There  is  a  story  and  I'll  tell  it  to  you. 
Come  in  and  sit  down."  He  opened  a  wire 
door  into  his  little  cage,  and  I  seated  my 
self  on  a  stool  and  gave  my  attention  to 
him. 

"It's  just  such  a  story,"  he  began,;  "  as  you 
can  hear  in  any  of  the  Southern  States — 
wherever  there  were  good  masters  and  faith 
ful  slaves.  This  particular  tale  is  a  part  of 
our  county  history,  and  there  ain't  one  of  the 
old  residents  but  could  tell  it  to  you  word  for 
word  and  fact  for  fact.  In  the  days  before 
our  misunderstanding  with  the  North,  the 
Fairfaxes  were  the  leading  people  in  this 
section.  By  leading,  I  mean  not  only  the 
wealthiest,  not  only  the  biggest  land-owners, 
but  that  their  name  counted  for  more  in  social 
circles  and  political  councils  than  any  other 
[147] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

hereabout.  It  is  natural  to  expect  that  such  a 
family  should  wish  to  preserve  its  own  name 
down  a  direct  line.  So  it  was  a  source  of 
great  grief  to  old  Fairfax  that  his  first  three 
children  were  girls,  pretty,  healthy,  plump 
enough  little  things,  but  girls  for  all  that,  and 
consequently  a  disappointment  to  their 
father's  pride  of  family.  When  the  fourth 
child  came  and  it  proved  to  be  a  boy,  the 
Fairfax  plantation  couldn't  hold  the  Fairfax 
joy  and  it  flowed  out  and  mellowed  the  whole 
county. 

;'They  do  say  that  Fairfax  Fairfax  was  in 
one  of  his  further  tobacco  fields  when  the  good 
news  was  brought  to  him,  and  that  after  giving 
orders  that  all  the  darkies  should  knock  off 
work  and  take  a  holiday,  in  his  haste  an  ex 
citement  he  jumped  down  from  his  horse  and 
ran  all  the  way  to  the  house.  I  give  the  story 
only  for  what  it  is  worth.  But  if  it  is  true,  it 
is  the  first  case  of  a  man  of  that  name  and  fam 
ily  forgetting  himself  in  an  emergency. 

"Well,  of  course,  the  advent  of  a  young 
[148] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

male  Fairfax  would  under  any  circumstances 
have  proven  a  great  event,  although  it  was 
afterwards  duplicated,  but  there  would  have 
been  no  story  to  tell,  there  would  have  been  no 
"  Cahoots,"  if  by  some  fortuitous  circum 
stance  one  of  the  slave  women  had  not  hap 
pened  to  bring  into  the  world  that  day  and 
almost  at  the  same  time  that  her  mistress  was 
introducing  young  Vaughan  Fairfax  to  the 
light,  a  little  black  pickaninny  of  her  own. 
Well,  if  you're  a  Southern  man,  and  I  take  it 
that  you  are,  you  know  that  nothing  ever  hap 
pens  in  the  quarters  that  the  big  house  doesn't 
know.  So  the  news  was  soon  at  the  white 
father's  ears  and  nothing  would  do  him  but 
that  the  black  baby  must  be  brought  to  the 
house  and  be  introduced  to  the  white  one. 
The  little  black  fellow  came  in  all  rolled  in 
his  bundle  of  shawls  and  was  laid  for  a  few 
minutes  beside  his  little  lord  and  master.  Side 
by  side  they  lay  blinking  at  the  light  equally 
strange  to  both,  and  then  the  master  took  the 
black  child's  hand  and  put  it  in  that  of  the 
[149] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

white's.  With  the  convulsive  gesture  com 
mon  to  babyhood  the  little  hands  clutched  in 
a  feeble  grasp. 

" '  Dah  now,'  old  Doshy  said — she  was  the 
nurse  that  had  brought  the  pickaninny  up — 
'dey  done  tol'  each  othah  howdy.' 

" i  Told  each  other  howdy  nothing,'  said  old 
Fairfax  solemnly,  '  they  have  made  a  silent 
compact  of  eternal  friendship,  and  I  propose 
to  ratify  it  right  here.' 

"  He  was  a  religious  man,  and  so  there  with 
all  the  darkies  clustered  around  in  super 
stitious  awe,  and  with  the  white  face  of  his 
wife  looking  at  him  from  among  the  pillows, 
he  knelt  and  offered  a  prayer,  and  asked  a 
blessing  upon  the  two  children  just  come  into 
the  world.  And  through  it  all  those  diminu 
tive  specimens  of  humanity  lay  there  blinking 
with  their  hands  still  clasped. 

"  Well,  they  named  the  white  child  Robert 

Vaughan,  and  they  began  calling  the  little 

darky  Ben,  until  an  incident  in  later  life  gave 

him  the  name  that  clung  to  him  till  the  last, 

[150] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

and  which  the  Fairfaxes  have  had  chiseled  on 
his  tomb-stone. 

"The  incident  occurred  when  the  two  boys 
were  about  five  years  old.  They  were  as  thick 
as  thieves,  and  two  greater  scamps  and  greater 
cronies  never  tramped  together  over  a  Vir 
gin  i  plantation.  In  the  matter  of  deviltry 
they  were  remarkably  precocious,  and  it  was 
really  wonderful  what  an  amount  of  mischief 
those  two  could  do.  As  was  natural,  the  white 
boy  planned  the  deeds,  and  the  black  one 
was  his  willing  coadjutor  in  carrying  them 
out. 

Meanwhile,  the  proud  father  was  smilingly 
indulgent  to  their  pranks,  but  even  with  him 
the  climax  was  reached  when  one  of  his  fine 
young  hounds  was  nearly  driven  into  fits  by 
the  clatter  of  a  tin  can  tied  to  its  tail.  Then 
the  two  culprits  were  summoned  to  appear 
before  the  paternal  court  of  inquiry. 

"They  came  hand  in  hand,  and  with  no 
great  show  of  fear  or  embarrassment.  They 
had  gotten  off  so  many  times  before  that  they 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

were  perfectly  confident  of  their  power  in  this 
case  to  cajole  the  judge.  But  to  their  surprise 
he  was  all  sternness  and  severity. 

"  '  Now  look  here,'  he  said,  after  expatiating 
on  the  cruel  treatment  which  the  dog  had  re 
ceived.  '  I  want  to  know  which  one  of  you 
tied  the  can  to  Spot's  tail?' 

"  Robert  Vaughan  looked  at  Ben,  and  Ben 
looked  back  at  him.  Silence  there,  and  noth 
ing  more. 

"'Do  you  hear  my  question?'  old  Fairfax 
asked  with  rising  voice. 

"  Robert  Vaughan  looked  straight  ahead 
of  him,  and  Ben  dug  his  big  toe  into  the  sand 
at  the  foot  of  the  veranda,  but  neither  an 
swered. 

" '  Robert  Vaughan  Fairfax/  said  his 
father,  'who  played  that  trick  on  Spot? 
Answer  me,  do  you  hear?' 

"  The  Fairfax  heir  seemed  suddenly  to 
have  grown  deaf  and  dumb,  and  the  father 
turned  to  the  black  boy.  His  voice  took  on 
the  tone  of  command  which  he  had  hardly 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

used  to  his  son.  'Who  played  that  trick  on 
Spot?  Answer  me,  Ben.' 

"The  little  darky  dug  harder  and  harder 
into  the  sand,  and  flashed  a  furtive  glance 
from  under  his  brows  at  his  fellow-conspira 
tor.  Then  he  drawled  out,  ' 1  done  it.' 

"'You  didn't,'  came  back  the  instant  re 
tort  from  his  young  master,  *  I  did  it  my 
self.' 

"'I  done  it,'  repeated  Ben,  and  'You 
didn't,'  reiterated  his  young  master. 

"The  father  sat  and  looked  on  at  the  dis 
pute,  and  his  mouth  twitched  suspiciously,  but 
he  spoke  up  sternly.  'Well,  if  I  can't  get  the 
truth  out  of  you  this  way,  I'll  try  some  other 
plan.  Mandy,'  he  hailed  a  servant, '  put  these 
boys  on  a  diet  of  bread  and  water  until  they 
are  ready  to  answer  my  questions  truthfully.' 

"The  culprits  were  led  away  to  their  pun 
ishment.  Of  course  it  would  have  just 
been  meat  to  Mandy  to  have  stolen  something 
to  the  youngsters,  but  her  master  kept  such  a 
close  eye  upon  her  that  she  couldn't,  and  when 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

brought  back  at  the  end  of  three  hours,  their 
fare  had  left  the  prisoners  rather  hungry. 
But  they  had  evidently  disputed  the  matter 
between  themselves,  and  from  the  cloud  on 
their  faces  when  they  reappeared  before  their 
stern  judge,  it  was  still  unsettled. 

"To  the  repetition  of  the  question, 
Vaughan  answered  again,  '  I  did  it,'  and  then 
his  father  tried  Ben  again. 

"After  several  efforts,  and  an  imploring 
glance  at  his  boy  master,  the  little  black  stam 
mered  out: 

"'Well,  I  reckon — I  reckon,  Mas,'  me  an' 
Mas'  Vaughan,  we  done  it  in  cahoots.' 

"Old  Fairfax  Fairfax  had  a  keen  sense  of 
humour,  and  as  he  looked  down  on  the 
strangely  old  young  darky  and  took  in  his 
answer,  the  circumstance  became  too  much 
for  his  gravity,  and  his  relaxing  laugh  sent 
the  culprits  rolling  and  tumbling  in  the  sand 
in  an  ectasy  of  relief  from  the  strained  situ 
ation. 

"'Cahoots— I  reckon  it  was  "Cahoots,"' 
[i54l 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

the  judge  said.  'You  ought  to  be  named 
that,  you  little  black  rascal!'  Well,  the  story 
got  around,  and  so  it  was,  and  from  that  day 
forth  the  black  boy  was  '  Cahoots.'  Cahoots, 
whether  on  the  plantation,  at  home,  in  the 
halls  of  the  Northern  College,  where  he  ac 
companied  his  young  master,  or  in  the  tragic 
moments  of  the  great  war-drama  played  out 
on  the  field  of  Malvern. 

"As  they  were  in  childhood,  so,  inseparable 
through  youth  and  young  manhood,  Robert 
Fairfax  and  Cahoots  grew  up.  They  were 
together  in  everything,  and  when  the  call 
came  that  summoned  the  young  Virginian 
from  his  college  to  fight  for  the  banner  of  his 
State,  Cahoots  was  the  one  who  changed  from 
the  ease  of  a  gentleman's  valet  to  the  hardship 
of  a  soldier's  body-servant. 

"The  last  words  Fairfax  Fairfax  said  as 
his  son  cantered  away  in  his  gray  suit  were 
addressed  to  Cahoots:  VTake  good  care  of 
your  Mas'  Vaughan,  Cahoots,  and  don't  come 
back  without  him.' 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

" '  I  won't,  Mastah,'  Cahoots  flung  back  and 
galloped  after  his  life-long  companion. 

"Well,  the  war  brought  hard  times  both 
for  master  and  man,  and  there  were  no 
flowery  beds  of  ease  even  for  the  officers  who 
wore  the  gray.  Robert  Fairfax  took  the  for 
tunes  of  the  conflict  like  a  man  and  a  Vir 
ginia  gentleman,  and  with  him  Cahoots. 

"It  was  at  Malvern  Hill  that  the  young 
Confederate  led  his  troops  into  battle,  and  all 
day  long  the  booming  of  the  cannon  and  the 
crash  of  musketry  rising  above  the  cries  of  the 
wounded  and  dying  came  to  the  ears  of  the 
slave  waiting  in  his  tent  for  his  master's  re 
turn.  Then  in  the  afternoon  a  scattered  frag 
ment  came  straggling  back  into  the  camp. 
Cahoots  went  out  to  meet  them.  The  firing 
still  went  on. 

"'Whah's  Mas'  Bob?'  his  voice  pierced 
through  the  cannon's  thunder. 

" '  He  fell  at  the  front,  early  in  the  battle.' 

"'Whah's  his  body  den,  ef  he  fell?' 

"'We  didn't  have  time  to  look  for  Head 
[156] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

bodies  in  that  murderous  fire.     It  was  all  we 
could  do  to  get  our  living  bodies  away.' 

" '  But  I  promised  not  to  go  back  without 
him.'  It  was  a  wail  of  anguish  from  the 
slave. 

"  <  Well,  you'll  have  to.' 
"'I  won't.     Whah  did  he  fall?' 
"  Someone  sketched  briefly  the  approximate 
locality  of  Robert  Fairfax's  resting  place,  and 
on  the  final  word  Cahoots  tore  away. 

"The  merciless  shot  of  the  Federals  was 
still  raking  the  field.  But  amid  it  all  an  old 
prairie  schooner,  gotten  from  God  knows 
where,  started  out  from  the  dismantled 
camp  across  the  field.  '  Some  fool  going  to  his 
death,'  said  one  of  the  gray  soldiers. 

"  A  ragged,  tattered  remnant  of  the  wagon 
came  back.  The  horses  were  bleeding  and 
staggering  in  their  steps.  The  very  harness 
was  cut  by  the  balls  that  had  grazed  it.  But 
with  a  light  in  his  eyes  and  the  look  of  a  hero, 
Cahoots  leaped  from  the  tattered  vehicle  and 
began  dragging  out  the  body  of  his  master. 
[i57] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"  He  had  found  him  far  to  the  front  in  an 
abandoned  position  and  brought  him  back 
over  the  field  of  the  dead. 

" l  How  did  you  do  it? '  They  asked  him. 

" '  I  jes'  had  to  do  it,'  he  said.  '  I  promised 
not  to  go  home  widout  him,  and  I  didn't  keer 
ef  I  did  git  killed.  I  wanted  to  die  ef  I 
couldn't  find  Mas'  Bob's  body.' 

"  He  carried  the  body  home,  and  mourned 
at  the  burial,  and  a  year  later  came  back  to  the 
regiment  with  the  son  who  had  come  after 
Robert,  and  was  now  just  of  fighting  age.  He 
went  all  through  this  campaign,  and  when 
the  war  was  over,  the  two  struck  away  into 
the  mountains.  They  came  back  after  a 
while,  neither  one  having  taken  the  oath  of 
allegiance,  and  if  there  were  any  rebels  Ca 
hoots  was  as  great  a  one  to  the  day  of  his  death 
as  his  master.  That  tomb-stone,  you  see  it 
looks  old,  was  placed  there  at  the  old  master's 
request  when  his  dead  son  came  home  from 
Malvern  Hill,  for  he  said  when  Cahoots  went 
to  the  other  side  they  must  not  be  separated ; 
[158] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

that  accounts  for  its  look  of  age,  but  it  was  not 
until  last  year  that  we  laid  Cahoots — Cahoots 
still  though  an  old  man — beside  his  master. 
And  many  a  man  that  had  owned  his  people, 
and  many  another  that  had  fought  to  continue 
that  ownership,  dropped  a  tear  on  his  grave." 


[159] 


THE    PROMOTER 


IX 
THE    PROMOTER 

EVEN  as  early  as  September,  in  the 
year  of  1870,  the  newly  emancipated 
had  awakened  to  the  perception  of 
the  commercial  advantages  of  freedom,  and 
had  begun  to  lay  snares  to  catch  the  fleet  and 
elusive  dollar.  Those  controversialists  who 
say  that  the  Negro's  only  idea  of  freedom  was 
to  live  without  work  are  either  wrong,  ma 
licious,  or  they  did  not  know  Little  Africa 
when  the  boom  was  on;  when  every  little 
African,  fresh  from  the  fields  and  cabins, 
dreamed  only  of  untold  wealth  and  of  man 
sions  in  which  he  would  have  been  thoroughly 
uncomfortable.  These  were  the  devil's  sunny 
days,  and  early  and  late  his  mowers  were  in 
the  field.  These  were  the  days  of  benefit 
societies  that  only  benefited  the  shrewdest 
man ;  of  mutual  insurance  associations,  of  wild 
building  companies,  and  of  gilt-edged  land 
[163] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

schemes  wherein  the  unwary  became  bogged. 
This  also  was  the  day  of  Mr.  Jason  Buford, 
who,  having  been  free  before  the  war,  knew 
a  thing  or  two,  and  now  had  set  himself  up  as 
a  promoter.  Truly  he  had  profited  by  the 
example  of  the  white  men  for  whom  he  had 
so  long  acted  as  messenger  and  factotum. 

As  he  frequently  remarked  when  for  pur 
poses  of  business  he  wished  to  air  his  Biblical 
knowledge,  "  I  jest  takes  the  Scripter  fur  my 
motter  an'  foller  that  ol'  passage  where  it  says, 
'  Make  hay  while  the  sun  shines,  fur  the  night 
cometh  when  no  man  kin  work.' ' 

It  is  related  that  one  of  Mr.  Buford's  cus 
tomers  was  an  old  plantation  exhorter.  At 
the  first  suggestion  of  a  Biblical  quotation  the 
old  gentleman  closed  his  eyes  and  got  ready 
with  his  best  amen.  But  as  the  import  of  the 
words  dawned  on  him  he  opened  his  eyes  in 
surprise,  and  the  amen  died  a-borning.  "  But 
do  hit  say  dat?"  he  asked  earnestly. 

"  It  certainly  does  read  that  way,"  said  the 
promoter  glibly. 

[164] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"Uh,  huh,"  replied  the  old  man,  settling 
himself  back  in  his  chair.  "  I  been  preachin' 
dat  t'ing  wrong  fu'  mo'  dan  fo'ty  yeahs.  Dat's 
whut  comes  o'  not  bein'  able  to  read  de  wo'd 
f u'  yo'se'f ." 

Buford  had  no  sense  of  the  pathetic  or  he 
could  never  have  done  what  he  did — sell  to 
the  old  gentleman,  on  the  strength  of  the 
knowledge  he  had  imparted  to  him,  a  house 
and  lot  upon  terms  so  easy  that  he  might 
drowse  along  for  a  little  time  and  then  wake 
to  find  himself  both  homeless  and  penniless. 
This  was  the  promoter's  method,  and  for  so 
long  a  time  had  it  proved  successful  that  he 
had  now  grown  mildly  affluent  and  had  set  up 
a  buggy  in  which  to  drive  about  and  see  his 
numerous  purchasers  and  tenants. 

Buford  was  a  suave  little  yellow  fellow, 
with  a  manner  that  suggested  the  training  of 
some  old  Southern  butler  father,  or  at  least, 
an  experience  as  a  likely  house-boy.  He  was 
polite,  plausible,  and  more  than  all,  resource 
ful.  All  of  this  he  had  been  for  years,  but 
[165] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

in  all  these  years  he  had  never  so  risen  to  the 
height  of  his  own  uniqueness  as  when  he  con 
ceived  and  carried  into  execution  the  idea  of 
the  "  Buford  Colonizing  Company." 

Humanity  has  always  been  looking  for  an 
Eldorado,  and,  however  mixed  the  metaphor 
may  be,  has  been  searching  for  a  Moses  to  lead 
it  thereto.  Behold,  then,  Jason  Buford  in  the 
role  of  Moses.  And  equipped  he  was  to  carry 
off  his  part  with  the  very  best  advantage,  for 
though  he  might  not  bring  water  from  the 
rock,  he  could  come  as  near  as  any  other  man 
to  getting  blood  from  a  turnip. 

The  beauty  of  the  man's  scheme  was  that  no 
offering  was  too  small  to  be  accepted.  In 
deed,  all  was  fish  that  came  to  his  net. 

Think  of  paying  fifty  cents  down  and  know 
ing  that  some  time  in  the  dim  future  you 
would  be  the  owner  of  property  in  the  very 
heart  of  a  great  city  where  people  would  rush 
to  buy.  It  was  glowing  enough  to  attract  a 
people  more  worldly  wise  than  were  these 
late  slaves.  They  simply  fell  into  the  scheme 
[166] 


THE  HEART.  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

with  all  their  souls;  and  off  their  half  dollars, 
dollars,  and  larger  sums,  Mr.  Buford  waxed 
opulent.  The  land  meanwhile  did  not  ma 
terialise. 

It  was  just  at  this  time  that  Sister  Jane  Cal- 
lender  came  upon  the  scene  and  made  glad  the 
heart  of  the  new-fledged  Moses.  He  had 
heard  of  Sister  Jane  before,  and  he  had 
greeted  her  coming  with  a  sparkling  of  eyes 
and  a  rubbing  of  hands  that  betokened  a  joy 
with  a  good  financial  basis. 

The  truth  about  the  newcomer  was  that  she 
had  just  about  received  her  pension,  or  that 
due  to  her  deceased  husband,  and  she  would 
therefore  be  rich,  rich  to  the  point  where  avar 
ice  would  lie  in  wait  for  her. 

Sis'  Jane  settled  in  Mr.  Buford's  bailiwick, 
joined  the  church  he  attended,  and  seemed 
only  waiting  with  her  dollars  for  the  very 
call  which  he  was  destined  to  make.  She  was 
hardly  settled  in  a  little  three-room  cottage 
before  he  hastened  to  her  side,  kindly  intent, 
or  its  counterfeit,  beaming  from  his  features. 
[167] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

He  found  a  weak-looking  old  lady  propped 
in  a  great  chair,  while  another  stout  and 
healthy-looking  woman  ministered  to  her 
wants  or  stewred  about  the  house  in  order  to 
be  doing  something. 

"Ah,  which — which  is  Sis'  Jane  Callen- 
der,"  he  asked,  rubbing  his  hands  for  all  the 
would  like  a  clothing  dealer  over  a  good 
customer. 

"Dat's  Sis'  Jane  in  de  cheer,"  said  the  ani 
mated  one,  pointing  to  her  charge.  "  She 
feelin'  mighty  po'ly  dis  evenin'.  What  might 
be  yo'  name?"  She  was  promptly  told. 

"  Sis'  Jane,  hyeah  one  de  good  brothahs 
come  to  see  you  to  offah  his  suvices  if  you  need 
anything." 

"Thanky,  brothah,  charity,"  said  the  weak 
voice,  "  sit  yo'se'f  down.  You  set  down,  Aunt 
Dicey.  Tain't  no  use  a  runnin'  roun'  waitin' 
on  me.  I  ain't  long  fu'  dis  worl'  nohow, 
mistah." 

"  Buford  is  my  name  an'  I  came  in  to  see  if 
I  could  be  of  any  assistance  to  you,  a-fixin' 
[168] 


A  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

up  yo'  mattahs  er  seem'  to  anything  for 
you." 

"  Hit's  mighty  kind  o'  you  to  come,  dough 
I  don'  'low  I'll  need  much  fixin'  fu'  now." 

"  Oh,  we  hope  you'll  soon  be  better,  Sistah 
Callender." 

"Nevah  no  mo',  suh,  'til  I  reach  the 
Kingdom." 

"  Sis'  Jane  Callender,  she  have  been  mighty 
sick,"  broke  in  Aunt  Dicey  Fairfax,  "but  I 
reckon  she  gwine  pull  thoo',  the  Lawd  willin'." 

"Amen,"  said  Mr.  Buford. 

"  Huh,  uh,  children,  I  done  hyeahd  de 
washin'  of  de  waters  of  Jerdon." 

"  No,  no,  Sistah  Callendah,  we  hope  to  see 
you  well  and  happy  in  de  injoyment  of  de  pen 
sion  dat  I  understan'  de  gov'ment  is  goin'  to 
give  you." 

"  La,  chile,  I  reckon  de  white  folks  gwine 
to  git  dat  money.  I  ain't  nevah  gwine  to  live 
to  'ceive  it.  Des'  aftah  I  been  wo'kin'  so  long 
fu'  it,  too." 

The  small  eyes  of  Mr.  Buford  glittered  with 
[169] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

anxiety  and  avarice.  What,  was  this  rich 
plum  about  to  slip  from  his  grasp,  just  as  he 
was  about  to  pluck  it?  It  should  not  be.  He 
leaned  over  the  old  lady  with  intense  eagerness 
in  his  gaze. 

"You  must  live  to  receive  it,"  he  said, 
"we  need  that  money  for  the  race.  It  must 
not  go  back  to  the  white  folks.  Ain't  you 
got  nobody  to  leave  it  to?  " 

"  Not  a  chick  ner  a  chile,  'ceptin'  Sis'  Dicey 
Fairfax  here." 

Mr.  Buford  breathed  again.  "Then  leave  it 
to  her,  by  all  means,"  he  said. 

"  I  don'  want  to  have  nothin'  to  do  with  de 
money  of  de  daid,"  said  Sis'  Dicey  Fairfax. 

"Now,  don't  talk  dat  away,  Sis'  Dicey," 
said  the  sick  woman.  "  Brother  Buford  is 
right,  case  you  sut'ny  has  been  good  to  me 
sence  I  been  layin'  hyeah  on  de  bed  of  afflic 
tion,  an'  dey  ain't  nobody  more  fitterner  to 
have  dat  money  den  you  is.  Ef  de  Lawd  des 
lets  me  live  long  enough,  I's  gwine  to  mek 
my  will  in  yo'  f  avoh." 

[170] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"Dc  LawcFs  will  be  done,"  replied  the 
other  with  resignation,  and  Mr.  Buford 
echoed  with  an  "  Amen!" 

He  stayed  very  long  that  evening,  planning 
and  talking  with  the  two  old  women,  who  re 
ceived  his  words  as  the  Gospel.  Two  weeks 
later  the  Ethiopian  Banner,  which  was  the 
organ  of  Little  Africa,  announced  that  Sis' 
Jane  Callender  had  received  a  back  pension 
which  amounted  to  more  than  five  hundred 
dollars.  Thereafter  Mr.  Buford  was  seen 
frequently  in  the  little  cottage,  until  one  day, 
after  a  lapse  of  three  or  four  weeks,  a  police 
man  entered  Sis'  Jane  Callender's  cottage  and 
led  her  away  amidst  great  excitement  to 
prison.  She  was  charged  with  pension  fraud, 
and  against  her  protestations,  was  locked  up 
to  await  the  action  of  the  Grand  Jury. 

The  promoter  was  very  active  in  his  client's 
behalf,  but  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts  she  was 
indicted  and  came  up  for  trial. 

It  was  a  great  day  for  the  denizens  of  Little 
Africa,  and  they  crowded  the  court  room  to 
[171] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

look  upon  this  stranger  who  had  come  among 
them  to  grow  so  rich,  and  then  suddenly  to 
fall  so  low. 

The  prosecuting  attorney  was  a  young 
Southerner,  and  when  he  saw  the  prisoner  at 
the  bar  he  started  violently,  but  checked  him 
self.  When  the  prisoner  saw  him,  however, 
she  made  no  effort  at  self  control. 

"Lawd  o'  mussy,"  she  cried,  spreading  out 
her  black  arms,  "  if  it  ain't  Miss  Lou's  little 
Bobby." 

The  judge  checked  the  hilarity  of  the  audi 
ence;  the  prosecutor  maintained  his  dignity 
by  main  force,  and  the  bailiff  succeeded  in 
keeping  the  old  lady  in  her  place,  although 
she  admonished  him:  "Pshaw,  chile,  you 
needn't  fool  wid  me,  I  nussed  dat  boy's 
mammy  when  she  horned  him." 

It  was  too  much  for  the  young  attorney,  and 
he  would  have  been  less  a  man  if  it  had  not 
been.  He  came  over  and  shook  her  hand 
warmly,  and  this  time  no  one  laughed. 

It  was  really  not  worth  while  prolonging 
[172] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

the  case,  and  the  prosecution  was  nervous. 
The  way  that  old  black  woman  took  the  court 
and  its  officers  into  her  bosom  was  enough  to 
disconcert  any  ordinary  tribunal.  She  pa 
tronised  the  judge  openly  before  the  hearing 
began  and  insisted  upon  holding  a  gentle 
motherly  conversation  with  the  foreman  of 
the  jury. 

She  was  called  to  the  stand  as  the  very  first 
witness. 

"What  is  your  name?"  asked  the  attorney. 

"Now,  Bobby,  what  is  you  axin'  me  dat  fu'? 
You  know  what  my  name  is,  and  you  one  of 
de  Fairfax  fambly,  too.  I  'low  ef  yo'  mammy 
was  hyeah,  she'd  mek  you  'membah;  she'd  put 
you  in  yo'  place." 

The  judge  rapped  for  order. 

"  That  is  just  a  manner  of  proceeding,"  he 
said;  "you  must  answer  the  question,  so  the 
rest  of  the  court  may  know." 

"Oh,  yes,  suh,  'scuse  me,  my  name  hit's 
Dicey  Fairfax." 

The  attorney  for  the  defence  threw  up  his 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

hands  and  turned  purple.  He  had  a  dozen 
witnesses  there  to  prove  that  they  had  known 
the  woman  as  Jane  Callender. 

"But  did  you  not  give  your  name  as  Jane 
Callender?" 

"  I  object,"  thundered  the  defence. 

"  Do,  hush,  man,"  Sis'  Dicey  exclaimed,  and 
then  turning  to  the  prosecutor,  "  La,  honey, 
you  know  Jane  Callender  ain't  my  real  name, 
you  knows  dat  yo'se'f.  It's  des  my  bus'ness 
name.  Wy,  Sis'  Jane  Callender  done  daid 
an'  gone  to  glory  too  long  'go  fu'  to  talk 
erbout." 

"Then  you  admit  to  the  court  that  your 
name  is  not  Jane  Callender?  " 

"Wha's  de  use  o'  my  'mittin',  don'  you 
know  it  yo'se'f,  suh?  Has  I  got  to  come 
hyeah  at  dis  late  day  an'  p'ove  my  name  an' 
redentify  befo'  my  ol'  Miss's  own  chile?  Mas' 
Bob,  I  nevah  did  t'ink  you'd  ac'  dat  away. 
Freedom  sutny  has  done  tuk  erway  yo'  man- 
nahs." 

"  Yes,  yes,  yes,  that's  all  right,  but  we  want 
[i74] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

to  establish  the  fact  that  your  name  is  Dicey 
Fairfax." 

"Cose  it  is." 

"Your  Honor,  I  object— I " 

"Your  Honor,"  said  Fairfax  coldly,  "will 
you  grant  me  the  liberty  of  conducting  the 
examination  in  a  way  somewhat  out  of  the 
ordinary  lines?  I  believe  that  my  brother  for 
the  defence  will  have  nothing  to  complain  of. 
I  believe  that  I  understand  the  situation  and 
shall  be  able  to  get  the  truth  more  easily  by 
employing  methods  that  are  not  altogether 
technical." 

The  court  seemed  to  understand  a  thing 
or  two  himself,  and  overruled  the  defence's 
objection. 

"Now,  Mrs.  Fairfax " 

Aunt  Dicey  snorted.  "  Hoomph?  What? 
Mis'  Fairfax?  What  ou  say,  Bobby  Fairfax? 
What  you  call  me  dat  fu'?  My  name  Aunt 
Dicey  to  you  an'  I  want  you  to  un'erstan'  dat 
right  hyeah.  Ef  you  keep  on  foolin'  wid  me, 
I  'spec'  my  patience  gwine  waih  claih  out." 
[i75] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"  Excuse  me.  Well,  Aunt  Dicey,  why  did 
you  take  the  name  of  Jane  Callender  if  your 
name  is  really  Dicey  Fairfax?7' 

"  W'y,  I  done  toP  you,  Bobby,  dat  Sis'  Jane 
Callender  was  des'  my  bus'ness  name." 

"Well,  how  were  you  to  use  this  business 
name?" 

"Well,  it  was  des  dis  away.  Sis'  Jane  Cal 
lender,  she  gwine  git  huh  pension,  but  la, 
chile,  she  tuk  down  sick  unto  deaf,  an'  Brothah 
Buford,  he  say  dat  she  ought  to  mek  a  will  in 
favoh  of  somebody,  so's  de  money  would  stay 
'mongst  ouah  folks,  an'  so,  bimeby,  she  'greed 
she  mek  a  will." 

"And  who  is  Brother  Buford,  Aunt 
Dicey?" 

"Brothah  Buford?  Oh,  he's  de  gemman 
whut  come  an'  offered  to  'ten'  to  Sis'  Jane 
Callender's  bus'ness  fu'  huh.  He's  a  moughty 
clevah  man." 

"And  he  told  her  she  ought  to  make  a 
will?" 

"Yas,  suh.  So  she  'greed  she  gwine  mek 
[176] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

a  will,  an'  she  say  to  me, '  Sis  Dicey,  you  sut'ny 
has  been  good  to  me  sence  I  been  layin'  hyeah 
on  dis  bed  of  'fliction,  an'  I  gwine  will  all  my 
proputy  to  you.'  Well,  I  don't  want  to  tek 
de  money,  an'  she  des  mos'  nigh  fo'ce  it  on  me, 
so  I  say  yes,  an'  Brothah  Buford  he  des  sot  an' 
talk  to  us,  an'  he  say  dat  he  come  to-morror  to 
bring  a  lawyer  to  draw  up  de  will.  But  bless 
Gawd,  honey,  Sis'  Callender  died  dat  night, 
an'  de  will  wasn't  made,  so  when  Brothah 
Buford  come  bright  an'  early  next  mornin',  I 
was  layin'  Sis'  Callender  out.  Brothah  Bu 
ford  was  mighty  much  moved,  he  was.  I 
nevah  did  see  a  strange  pusson  tek  anything 
so  hard  in  all  my  life,  an'  den  he  talk  to  me, 
an'  he  say,  'Now,  Sis'  Dicey,  is  you  notified 
any  de  neighbours  yit?'  an'  I  said  no  I  hain't 
notified  no  one  of  de  neighbours,  case  I  ain't 
'quainted  wid  none  o'  dem  yit,  an'  he  say, 
'  How  erbout  de  doctah?  Is  he  'quainted  wid 
de  diseased?'  an'  I  tol'  him  no,  he  des  come 
in,  da's  all.  'Well,'  he  say,  '  cose  you  un'er- 
stan'  now  dat  you  is  Sis'  Jane  Callender,  caise 
[i77] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

you  inhe'it  huh  name,  an'  when  de  doctah 
come  to  mek  out  de  'stiffycate,  you  mus'  tell 
him  dat  Sis'  Dicey  Fairfax  is  de  name  of  de 
diseased,  an'  it  '11  be  all  right,  an'  aftah  dis 
you  got  to  go  by  de  name  o'  Jane  Callender, 
caise  it's  a  bus'ness  name  you  done  inhe'it.' 
Well,  dat's  whut  I  done,  an'  dat's  huccome  I 
been  Jane  Callender  in  de  bus'ness  'sactions, 
an'  Dicey  Fairfax  at  home.  Now,  you  un'er- 
stan',  don't  you?  It  wuz  my  inhe'ited 


name." 


"  But  don't  you  know  that  what  you  have 
done  is  a  penitentiary  offence?" 

"Who  you  stan'in'  up  talkin'  to  dat  erway, 
you  nasty  impident  little  scoun'el?  Don't  you 
talk  to  me  dat  erway.  I  reckon  ef  yo'  mammy 
was  hyeah  she  sut'ny  would  tend  to  yo'  case. 
You  alluse  was  sassier  an'  pearter  den  yo' 
brother  Nelse,  an'  he  had  to  go  an'  git  killed 
in  de  wah,  an'  you — you — w'y,  jedge,  I'se 
spanked  dat  boy  mo'  times  den  I  kin  tell  you 
fu'  hus  impidence.  I  don't  see  how  you  evah 
gits  erlong  wid  him." 

[178] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

The  court  repressed  a  ripple  that  ran 
around.  But  there  was  no  smile  on  the 
smooth-shaven,  clear-cut  face  of  the  young 
Southerner.  Turning  to  the  attorney  for  the 
defence,  he  said:  "Will  you  take  the  wit 
ness?"  But  that  gentleman,  waving  one 
helpless  hand,  shook  his  head. 

"That  will  do,  then,"  said  young  Fairfax. 
"Your  Honor,"  he  went  on,  addressing  the 
court,  "  I  have  no  desire  to  prosecute  this 
case  further.  You  all  see  the  trend  of  it  just 
as  I  see,  and  it  would  be  folly  to  continue  the 
examination  of  any  of  the  rest  of  these  wit 
nesses.  We  have  got  that  story  from  Aunt 
Dicey  herself  as  straight  as  an  arrow  from  a 
bow.  While  technically  she  is  guilty;  while 
according  to  the  facts  she  is  a  criminal  ac 
cording  to  the  motive  and  the  intent  of  her 
actions,  she  is  as  innocent  as  the  whitest  soul 
among  us."  He  could  not  repress  the  youth 
ful  Southerner's  love  for  this  little  bit  of 
rhetoric. 

"  And  I  believe  that  nothing  is  to  be  gained 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

by  going  further  into  the  matter,  save  for  the 
purpose  of  finding  out  the  whereabouts  of  this 
Brother  Buford,  and  attending  to  his  case  as 
the  facts  warrant.  But  before  we  do  this,  I 
want  to  see  the  stamp  of  crime  wiped  away 
from  the  name  of  my  Aunt  Dicey  there,  and 
I  beg  leave  of  the  court  to  enter  a  nolle 
prosse.  There  is  only  one  other  thing  I  must 
ask  of  Aunt  Dicey,  and  that  is  that  she  return 
the  money  that  was  illegally  gotten,  and  give 
us  information  concerning  the  whereabouts  of 
Buford." 

Aunt  Dicey  looked  up  in  excitement,  "  W'y, 
chile,  ef  dat  money  was  got  illegal,  I  don' 
want  it,  but  I  do  know  whut  I  gwine  to  do, 
cause  I  done  Vested  it  all  wid  Brothah  Buford 
in  his  colorednization  comp'ny."  The  court 
drew  its  breath.  It  had  been  expecting  some 
such  denouement. 

"And  where  is  the  office  of  this  company 
situated?" 

"Well,  I  des  can't  tell  dat,"  said  the  old 
lady.  "W'y,  la,  man,  Brothah  Buford  was 
[180] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

in  co't  to-day.  Whaih  is  he?  Brothah  Bu- 
ford,  whaih  you?"  But  no  answer  came  from 
the  surrounding  spectators.  Brother  Buford 
had  faded  away.  The  old  lady,  however, 
after  due  conventions,  was  permitted  to  go 
home. 

It  was  with  joy  in  her  heart  that  Aunt  Dicey 
Fairfax  wrent  back  to  her  little  cottage  after 
her  dismissal,  but  her  face  clouded  when  soon 
after  Robert  Fairfax  came  in. 

"  Hyeah  you  come  as  usual,"  she  said  with 
well-feigned  anger.  "  Tryin'  to  sof  soap  me 
aftah  you  been  carryin'  on.  You  ain't  changed 
one  mite  fu'  all  yo'  bein'  a  man.  What  you 
talk  to  me  dat  away  in  co't  fu'?" 

Fairfax's  face  was  very  grave.  "It  was 
necessary,  Aunt  Dicey,"  he  said.  "You  know 
I'm  a  lawyer  now,  and  there  are  certain  things 
that  lawyers  have  to  do  whether  they  like  it  or 
not.  You  don't  understand.  That  man  Bu 
ford  is  a  scoundrel,  and  he  came  very  near 
leading  you  into  a  very  dangerous  and  crim 
inal  act.  I  am  glad  I  was  near  to  save  you." 
[181] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"  Oh,  honey,  chile,  I  didn't  know  dat.  Set 
down  an'  tell  me  all  erbout  it." 

This  the  attorney  did,  and  the  old  lady's 
indignation  blazed  forth.  "Well,  I  hope  to 
de  Lawd  you'll  fin'  dat  rascal  an'  larrup  him 
ontwell  he  cain't  stan'  straight." 

"  No,  we're  going  to  do  better  than  that  and 
a  great  deal  better.  If  we  find  him  we  are 
going  to  send  him  where  he  won't  inveigle 
any  more  innocent  people  into  rascality,  and 
you're  going  to  help  us." 

"W'y,  sut'ny,  chile,  I'll  do  all  I  kin  to  he'p 
you  git  dat  rascal,  but  I  don't  know  whaih  he 
lives,  case  he's  allus  come  hyeah  to  see  me." 

"  He'll  come  back  some  day.  In  the  mean 
time  we  will  be  laying  for  him." 

Aunt  Dicey  was  putting  some  very  flaky 
biscuits  into  the  oven,  and  perhaps  the  mem 
ory  of  other  days  made  the  young  lawyer  pro 
long  his  visit  and  his  explanation.  When, 
however,  he  left,  it  was  with  well-laid  plans 
to  catch  Jason  Buford  napping. 

It  did  not  take  long.  Stealthily  that  same 
[182] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

evening  a  tapping  came  at  Aunt  Dicey's  door. 
She  opened  it,  and  a  small,  crouching  figure 
crept  in.  It  was  Mr.  Buford.  He  turned 
down  the  collar  of  his  coat  which  he  had  had 
closely  up  about  his  face  and  said: 

"Well,  well,  Sis'  Callender,  you  sut'ny  have 
spoiled  us  all." 

"La,  Brothah  Buford,  come  in  hyeah  an' 
set  down.  Whaih  you  been?" 

"  I  been  hidin'  fu'  feah  of  that  testimony 
you  give  in  the  court  room.  What  did  you 
do  that  fu'?" 

"  La,  me,  I  didn't  know,  you  didn't  'splain 
to  me  in  de  fust." 

"Well,  you  see,  you  spoiled  it,  an'  I've  got 
to  git  out  of  town  as  soon  as  I  kin.  Sis'  Cal 
lender,  dese  hyeah  white  people  is  mighty 
slippery,  and  they  might  catch  me.  But  I 
want  to  beg  you  to  go  on  away  from  hyeah  so's 
you  won't  be  hyeah  to  testify  if  dey  does. 
Hyeah's  a  hundred  dollars  of  yo'  money  right 
down,  and  you  leave  hyeah  to-morrer  mornin' 
an'  go  erway  as  far  as  you  kin  git." 
[183] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"La,  man,  I's  puffectly  willin'  to  he'p  you, 
you  know  dat." 

"Cose,  cose,"  he  answered  hurriedly,  "we 
col'red  people  has  got  to  stan'  together." 

"  But  what  about  de  res'  of  dat  money  dat  I 
been  'vestin'  wid  you?" 

"  I'm  goin'  to  pay  intrus'  on  that,"  answered 
the  promoter  glibly. 

"All  right,  all  right."  Aunt  Dicey  had 
made  several  trips  to  the  little  back  room  just 
off  her  sitting  room  as  she  talked  with  the  pro 
moter.  Three  times  in  the  window  had  she 
waved  a  lighted  lamp.  Three  times  without 
success.  But  at  the  last  "  all  right,"  she  went 
into  the  room  again.  This  time  the  waving 
lamp  was  answered  by  the  sudden  flash  of  a 
lantern  outside. 

"  All  right,"  she  said,  as  she  returned  to  the 
room,  "set  down  an'  lemme  fix  you  some 
suppah." 

"  I  ain't  hardly  got  the  time.  I  got  to  git 
away  from  hyeah."  'J3ut  the  smell  of  the  new 
baked  biscuits  was  in  his  nostrils  and  he  could 
[184] 


THE  HEART.  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

not  resist  the  temptation  to  sit  down.  He  was 
eating  hastily,  but  with  appreciation,  when 
the  door  opened  and  two  minions  of  the  law 
entered. 

Buford  sprang  up  and  turned  to  flee,  but 
at  the  back  door,  her  large  form  a  towering 
and  impassive  barrier,  stood  Aunt  Dicey. 

"  Oh,  don't  hu'y,  Brothah  Buford,"  she  said 
calmly,  "set  down  an'  he'p  yo'se'f.  Dese 
hyeah's  my  friends." 

It  was  the  next  day  that  Robert  Fairfax  saw 
him  in  his  cell.  The  man's  face  was  ashen 
with  coward's  terror.  He  was  like  a  caught 
rat  though,  bitingly  on  the  defensive. 

"  You  see  we've  got  you,  Buford,"  said  Fair 
fax  coldly  to  him.  "  It  is  as  well  to  con 
fess." 

"  I  ain't  got  nothin'  to  say,"  said  Buford 
cautiously. 

"You  will  have  something  to  say  later  on 
unless  you  say  it  now.  I  don't  want  to  intimi 
date  you,  but  Aunt  Dicey's  word  will  be  taken 
in  any  court  in  the  United  States  against  yours, 
[185] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

and  I  see  a  few  years  hard  labour  for  you  be 
tween  good  stout  walls." 

The  little  promoter  showed  his  teeth  in  an 
impotent  snarl.  "What  do  you  want  me  to 
do?"  he  asked,  weakening. 

"  First,  I  want  you  to  give  back  every  cent 
of  the  money  that  you  got  out  of  Dicey  Fair 
fax.  Second,  I  want  you  to  give  up  to  every 
one  of  those  Negroes  that  you  have  cheated 
every  cent  of  the  property  you  have  accumu 
lated  by  fraudulent  means.  Third,  I  want 
you  to  leave  this  place,  and  never  come  back 
so  long  as  God  leaves  breath  in  your  dirty 
body.  If  you  do  this,  I  will  save  you — you 
are  not  worth  the  saving — from  the  pen  or 
'worse.  If  you  don't,  I  will  make  this  place 
so  hot  for  you  that  hell  will  seem  like  an  ice 
box  beside  it." 

The  little  yellow  man  was  cowering  in  his 
cell  before  the  attorney's  indignation.  His 
lips  were  drawn  back  over  his  teeth  in  some 
thing  that  was  neither  a  snarl  nor  a  smile. 
His  eyes  were  bulging  and  fear-stricken,  and 
[186] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

his  hands  clasped  and  unclasped  themselves 
nervously. 

"I — I-  -"  he  faltered,  "  do  you  want  to 
send  me  out  without  a  cent?  " 

"Without  a  cent,  without  a  cent,"  said  Fair 
fax  tensely. 

"  I  won't  do  it,"  the  rat  in  him  again  showed 
fight.  "  I  won't  do  it.  I'll  stay  hyeah  an' 
fight  you.  You  can't  prove  anything  on  me." 

"All  right,  all  right,"  and  the  attorney 
turned  toward  the  door. 

"Wait,  wait,"  called  the  man,  "  I  will  do  it, 
my  God!  I  will  do  it.  Jest  let  me  out  o' 
hyeah,  don't  keep  me  caged  up.  I'll  go  away 
from  hyeah." 

Fairfax  turned  back  to  him  coldly,  "You 
will  keep  your  word?" 

"Yes." 

"  I  will  return  at  once  and  take  the  con 
fession." 

And  so  the  thing  was  done.  Jason  Buford, 
stripped  of  his  ill-gotten  gains,  left  the  neigh 
bourhood  of  Little  Africa  forever.  And 
[187] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

Aunt  Dicey,  no  longer  a  wealthy  woman  and 
a  capitalist,  is  baking  golden  brown  biscuits 
for  a  certain  young  attorney  and  his  wife,  who 
has  the  bad  habit  of  rousing  her  anger  by 
references  to  her  business  name  and  her  invest 
ments  with  a  promoter. 


[188] 


THE    WISDOM    OF    SILENCE 


THE    WISDOM    OF    SILENCE 

JEREMIAH  ANDERSON  was  free. 
He  had  been  free  for  ten  years,  and  he 
was  proud  of  it.  He  had  been  proud  of 
it  from  the  beginning,  and  that  was  the  reason 
that  he  was  one  of  the  first  to  cast  off  the  bonds 
of  his  old  relations,  and  move  from  the  plan 
tation  and  take  up  land  for  himself.  He  was 
anxious  to  cut  himself  off  from  all  that  bound 
him  to  his  former  life.  So  strong  was  this 
feeling  in  him  that  he  would  not  consent  to 
stay  on  and  work  for  his  one-time  owner  even 
for  a  full  wage. 

To  the  proposition  of  the  planter  and  the 
gibes  of  some  of  his  more  dependent  fellows 
he  answered,  "  No,  suh,  I's  free,  an'  I  sholy  Is 
able  to  tek  keer  o'  myse'f.  I  done  been  fat- 
tenin'  frogs  fu'  othah  people's  snakes  too  long 
now." 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"But,  Jerry/'  said  Samuel  Brabant,  "I 
don't  mean  you  any  harm.  The  thing's  done. 
You  don't  belong  to  me  any  more,  but  natur 
ally,  I  take  an  interest  in  you,  and  want  to  do 
what  I  can  to  give  you  a  start.  It's  more  than 
the  Northern  government  has  done  for  you, 
although  such  wise  men  ought  to  know  that 
you  have  had  no  training  in  caring  for  your 
selves." 

There  was  a  slight  sneer  in  the  Southerner's 
voice.  Jerry  perceived  it  and  thought  it  di 
rected  against  him.  Instantly  his  pride  rose 
and  his  neck  stiffened. 

"Nemmine  me,"  he  answered,  "nemmine 
me.  I's  free,  an'  w'en  a  man's  free,  he's  free." 

"All  right,  go  your  own  way.  You  may 
have  to  come  back  to  me  some  time.  If  you 
have  to  come,  come.  I  don't  blame  you  now. 
It  must  be  a  great  thing  to  you,  this  dream — 
this  nightmare."  Jerry  looked  at  him. 
"  Oh,  it  isn't  a  nightmare  now,  but  some  day, 
maybe,  it  will  be,  then  come  to  me." 

The  master  turned  away  from  the  newly 
[  192] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

made  freeman,  and  Jerry  went  forth  into  the 
world  which  was  henceforth  to  be  his.  He 
took  with  him  his  few  belongings;  these 
largely  represented  by  his  wife  and  four  lusty- 
eating  children.  Besides,  he  owned  a  little 
money,  which  he  had  got  working  for  others 
when  his  master's  task  was  done.  Thus,  bur- 
rdened  and  equipped,  he  set  out  to  tempt 
Fortune. 

He  might  do  one  of  two  things — farm  land 
upon  shares  for  one  of  his  short-handed  neigh 
bours,  or  buy  a  farm,  mortgage  it,  and  pay  for 
it  as  he  could.  As  was  natural  for  Jerry,  and 
not  uncommendable,  he  chose  at  once  the  lat 
ter  course,  bargained  for  his  twenty  acres— 
for  land  was  cheap  then,  bought  his  mule, 
built  his  cabin,  and  set  up  his  household 
goods. 

Now,  slavery  may  give  a  man  the  habit  of 
work,  but  it  cannot  imbue  him  with  the  nat 
ural  thrift  that  long  years  of  self-dependence 
brings.  There  were  times  when  Jerry's  free 
dom  tugged  too  strongly  at  his  easy  inclin- 
[193] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

ation,  drawing  him  away  to  idle  when  he 
should  have  toiled.  What  was  the  use  of 
freedom,  asked  an  inward  voice,  if  one  might 
not  rest  when  one  would?  If  he  might  not 
stop  midway  the  furrow  to  listen  and  laugh 
at  a  droll  story  or  tell  one?  If  he  might  not 
go  a-fishing  when  all  the  forces  of  nature  in 
vited  and  the  jay-bird  called  from  the  tree  and 
gave  forth  saucy  banter  like  the  fiery,  blue 
shrew  that  she  was? 

There  were  times  when  his  compunction 
held  Jerry  to  his  task,  but  more  often  he 
turned  an  end  furrow  and  laid  his  misgivings 
snugly  under  it  and  was  away  to  the  woods  or 
the  creek.  There  was  joy  and  a  loaf  for  the 
present.  What  more  could  he  ask? 

The  first  year  Fortune  laughed  at  him,  and 
her  laugh  is  very  different  from  her  smile. 
She  sent  the  swift  rains  to  wash  up  the  new 
planted  seed,  and  the  hungry  birds  to  devour 
them.  She  sent  the  fierce  sun  to  scorch  the 
young  crops,  and  the  clinging  weeds  to  hug 
the  fresh  greenness  of  his  hope  to  death.  She 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

sent — cruellest  jest  of  all — another  baby  to  be 
fed,  and  so  weakened  Cindy  Ann  that  for 
many  days  she  could  not  work  beside  her  hus 
band  in  the  fields. 

Poverty  began  to  teach  the  unlessoned 
delvei  in  the  soil  the  thrift  which  he  needed ; 
but  he  ended  his  first  twelve  months  with 
barely  enough  to  eat,  and  nothing  paid  on  his 
land  or  his  mule.  Broken  and  discouraged, 
the  words  of  his  old  master  came  to  him.  But 
he  was  proud  with  an  obstinate  pride  and  he 
shut  his  lips  together  so  that  he  might  not 
groan.  He  would  not  go  to  his  master. 
Anything  rather  than  that. 

In  that  place  sat  certain  beasts  of  prey,  deal 
ers,  and  lenders  of  money,  who  had  their  lairs 
somewhere  within  the  boundaries  of  that  wide 
and  mysterious  domain  called  The  Law. 
They  had  their  risks  to  run,  but  so  must  all 
beasts  that  eat  flesh  or  drink  blood.  To  them 
went  Jerry,  and  they  were  kind  to  him.  They 
gave  him  of  their  store.  They  gave  him  food 
and  seed,  but  they  were  to  own  all  that  they 
[i95l 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

gave  him  from  what  he  raised,  and  they  were 
to  take  their  toll  first  from  the  new  crops. 

Now,  the  black  had  been  warned  against 
these  same  beasts,  for  others  had  fallen  a  prey 
to  them  even  in  so  short  a  time  as  their  eman 
cipation  measured,  and  they  saw  themselves 
the  re-manacled  slaves  of  a  hopeless  and  ever 
growing  debt,  but  Jerry  would  not  be  warned. 
He  chewed  the  warnings  like  husks  between 
his  teeth,  and  got  no  substance  from  them. 

Then,  Fortune,  who  deals  in  surprises, 
played  him  another  trick.  She  smiled  upon 
him.  His  second  year  wras  better  than  his 
first,  and  the  brokers  swore  over  his  paid  up 
note.  Cindy  Ann  was  strong  again  and  the 
oldest  boy  was  big  enough  to  help  with  the 
work. 

Samuel  Brabant  was  displeased,  not  because 
he  felt  any  malice  toward  his  former  servant, 
but  for  the  reason  that  any  man  with  the 
natural  amount  of  human  vanity  must  feel 
himself  agrieved  just  as  his  cherished 
prophecy  is  about  to  come  true.  Isaiah  him- 
[196] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

self  could  not  have  been  above  it.  How  much 
less,  then,  the  uninspired  Mr.  Brabant,  who 
had  his  "  I  told  you  so,"  all  ready.  He  had 
been  ready  to  help  Jerry  after  giving  him 
admonitions,  but  here  it  was  not  needed.  An 
unused  "  I  told  you  so,"  however  kindly,  is  an 
acid  that  turns  the  milk  of  human  kindness 
sour. 

Jerry  went  on  gaining  in  prosperity.  The 
third  yeai  treated  him  better  than  the  second, 
and  the  fourth  better  than  the  third.  During 
the  fifth  he  enlarged  his  farm  and  his  house 
and  took  pride  in  the  fact  that  his  oldest  boy, 
Matthew,  was  away  at  school.  By  the  tenth 
year  of  his  freedom  he  was  arrogantly  out  of 
debt  Then  his  pride  was  too  much  for  him. 
During  all  these  years  of  his  struggle  the 
words  of  his  master  had  been  as  gall  in  his 
mouth.  Now  he  spat  them  out  with  a  boast 
He  talked  much  in  the  market-place,  and 
where  many  people  gathered,  he  was  much 
there,  giving  himself  as  a  bright  and  shining 
example. 

[i97l 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"  Huh,"  he  would  chuckle  to  any  listeners 
he  could  find,  "OP  Mas'  Brabant,  he  say, 
4  Stay  hyeah,  stay  hyeah,  you  do'  know  how  to 
tek  keer  o'  yo'se'f  yit.'  But  I  des'  look  at  my 
two  han's  an'  I  say  to  myse'f ,  whut  I  been  doin' 
wid  dese  all  dese  yeahs — tekin'  keer  o'  myse'f 
an'  him,  too.  I  wo'k  in  de  fiel',  he  set  in  de 
big  house  an'  smoke.  I  wo'k  in  de  fiel',  his 
son  go  away  to  college  an'  come  back  a  grad 
uate.  Das  hit.  Well,  w'en  freedom  come,  I 
des'  bent  an'  boun'  I  ain'  gwine  do  it  no  mo' 
an'  I  didn't.  Now  look  at  me.  I  sets  down 
w'en  I  wants  to.  I  does  my  own  wo'kin'  an' 
my  own  smokin'.  I  don't  owe  a  cent,  an'  dis 
yeah  my  boy  gwine  graduate  f'om  de  school. 
Dat's  me,  an'  I  ain'  called  on  ol'  Mas'  yit." 

Now,  an  example  is  always  an  odious  thing, 
because,  first  of  all,  it  is  always  insolent  even 
when  it  is  bad,  and  there  were  those  who  list 
ened  to  Jerry  who  had  not  been  so  successful 
as  he,  some  even  who  had  stayed  on  the  plan 
tation  and  as  yet  did  not  even  own  the  mule 
they  ploughed  with.  The  hearts  of  those  were 
[198] 


THE  HEART,  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

filled  with  rage  and  their  mouths  with  envy. 
Some  of  the  sting  of  the  latter  got  into  their 
re-telling  of  Jerry's  talk  and  made  it  worse 
than  it  was. 

Old  Samuel  Brabant  laughed  and  said, 
"Well,  Jerry's  not  dead  yet,  and  although  I 
Uon't  wish  him  any  harm,  my  prophecy  might 
come  true  yet." 

There  were  others  who,  hearing,  did  not 
laugh,  or  if  they  did,  it  was  with  a  mere 
strained  thinning  of  the  lips  that  had  no  ele 
ment  of  mirth  in  it.  Temper  and  tolerance 
were  short  ten  years  after  sixty-three. 

The  foolish  farmer's  boastings  bore  fruit, 
and  one  night  when  he  and  his  family  had 
gone  to  church  he  returned  to  find  his  house 
and  barn  in  ashes,  his  mules  burned  and  his 
crop  ruined.  It  had  been  very  quietly  done 
and  quickly.  The  glare  against  the  sky  had 
attracted  few  from  the  nearby  town,  and  them 
too  late  to  be  of  service. 

Jerry  camped  that  night  across  the  road 
from  what  remained  of  his  former  dwelling. 
[199] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

Cindy  Ann  and  the  children,  worn  out  and 
worried,  went  to  sleep  in  spite  of  themselves, 
but  he  sat  there  all  night  long,  his  chin  be 
tween  his  knees,  gazing  at  what  had  been  his 
pride. 

Well,  the  beasts  lay  in  wait  for  him  again, 
and  when  he  came  to  them  they  showed  their 
fangs  in  greeting.  And  the  velvet  was  over 
their  claws.  He  had  escaped  them  before. 
He  had  impugned  their  skill  in  the  hunt,  and 
they  were  ravenous  for  him.  Now  he  was 
fatter,  too.  He  went  away  from  them  with 
hard  terms,  and  a  sickness  at  his  heart.  But 
he  had  not  said  "  Yes "  to  the  terms.  He  was 
going  home  to  consider  the  almost  hopeless 
conditions  under  which  they  would  let  him 
build  again. 

They  were  staying  with  a  neighbour  in  town 
pending  his  negotiations  and  thither  he  went 
to  ponder  on  his  circumstances.  Then  it  was 
that  Cindy  Ann  came  into  the  equation.  She 
demanded  to  know  what  was  to  be  done  and 
how  it  was  to  be  gone  about. 

r  200 1 


fefce 


*  Say,  if  you  says  de  ain't  no  Santy  Clans  again, 
I'll' punch  vo'  head."' 


THE   HEART   OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"  But  Cindy  Ann,  honey,  you  do'  know  nuf- 
fin'  'bout  bus'ness." 

"T'ain't  whut  I  knows,  but  whut  I  got  a 
right  to  know,"  was  her  response. 

"  I  do'  see  huccome  you  got  any  right  to  be 
a-pryin'  into  dese  hyeah  things." 

"I's  got  de  same  right  I  had  to  w'ok  an' 
struggle  erlong  an'  he'p  you  get  whut  we's 
'done  los'." 

Jerry  winced  and  ended  by  telling  her  all. 

"  Dat  ain't  nuffin'  but  owdacious  robbery," 
said  Cindy  Ann.  "  Dem  people  sees  dat  you 
got  a  little  some'p'n,  an'  dey  ain't  gwine  stop 
ontwell  dey's  bu'nt  an'  stoled  evah  blessed 
cent  f  om  you.  Je'miah,  don't  you  have  nuffin' 
mo'  to  do  wid  'em." 

"  I  got  to,  Cindy  Ann." 

"  Whut  fu'  you  got  to?" 

"  How  I  gwine  buil'  a  cabin  an'  a  ba'n  an' 
buy  a  mule  less'n  I  deal  wid  'em?" 

"Dah's  Mas'  Sam  Brabant.  He'd  he'p 
you  out." 

Jerry  rose  up,  his  eyes  flashing  fire.  "  Cindy. 
[201] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

Ann,"  he  said,  uyou  a  fool,  you  ain't  got  no 
mo'  pride  den  a  guinea  hen,  an'  you  got  a  heap 
less  sense.  W'y,  befo'  I  go  to  ol'  Mas'  Sam 
Brabant  fu'  a  cent,  I'd  sta've  out  in  de  road." 

"Huh!"  said  Cindy  Ann,  shutting  her 
mouth  on  her  impatience. 

One  gets  tired  of  thinking  and  saying  how 
much  more  sense  a  woman  has  than  a  man 
when  she  comes  in  where  his  sense  stops  and 
his  pride  begins. 

With  the  recklessness  of  despair  Jerry  slept 
late  that  next  morning,  but  he  might  have 
awakened  early  without  spoiling  his  wife's 
plans.  She  was  up  betimes,  had  gone  on  her 
mission  and  returned  before  her  spouse 
awoke. 

It  was  about  ten  o'clock  when  Brabant 
came  to  see  him.  Jerry  grew  sullen  at  once 
as  his  master  approached,  but  his  pride  stif 
fened.  This  white  man  should  see  that  mis 
fortune  could  not  weaken  him. 

"Well,  Jerry,"  said  his  former  master, 
"you  would  not  come  to  me,  eh,  so  I  must 

[202] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

come  to  you.  You  let  a  little  remark  of  mine 
keep  you  from  your  best  friend,  and  put  you 
in  the  way  of  losing  the  labour  of  years." 

Jerry  made  no  answer. 

"  YouVe  proved  yourself  able  to  work  well, 
but  Jerry,"  pausing,  "you  haven't  yet  shown 
that  you're  able  to  take  care  of  yourself,  you 
don't  know  how  to  keep  your  mouth  shut." 

The  ex-slave  tried  to  prove  this  a  lie  by 
negative  pantomime. 

"  I'm  going  to  lend  you  the  money  to  start 
again." 

"I  won't -" 

"Yes,  you  will,  if  you  don't,  I'll  lend  it  to 
Cindy  Ann,  and  let  her  build  in  her  own 
name.  She's  got  more  sense  than  you,  and 
she  knows  how  to  keep  still  when  things  go 
well." 

"  Mas'  Sam,"  cried  Jerry,  rising  quickly, 
"  don'  len'  dat  money  to  Cindy  Ann.  W'y  ef 
a  ooman's  got  anything  she  nevah  lets  you 
hyeah  de  las'  of  it." 

"  Will  you  take  it,  then?" 
[203] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"Yes,  suh;  yes,  suh,  an'  thank  'e,  Mas' 
Sam."  There  were  sobs  some  place  back  in 
his  throat.  "An'  nex'  time  ef  I  evah  gets  a 
sta't  agin,  I'll  keep  my  mouf  shet.  Fac'  is, 
I'll  come  to  you,  Mas'  Sam,  an'  borry  fu'  de 
sake  o'  hidinV 


[204] 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  OL'  MIS'  PEASE 


XI 
THE  TRIUMPH  OF  OU  MIS'  PEASE 

BETWEEN  the  two  women,  the  feud 
began    in    this    way:     When     Ann 
Pease    divorced    her    handsome    but 
profligate   spouse,   William,    Nancy    Rogers 
had,  with  reprehensible  haste,  taken  him  for 
better  or  for  worse.     Of  course,  it  proved  for 
worse,   but  Ann   Pease   had   never   forgiven 
her. 

"  Tears  lak  to  me,"  she  said,  "  dat  she  was 
des  a-waitin'  fu'  to  step  inter  my  shoes,  no 
mattah  how  I  got  outen  'em,  whethah  I  died 
or  divorced." 

It  was  in  the  hey-day  of  Nancy  Rogers' 
youth,  and  she  was  still  hot-tempered,  so  she 
retorted  that  "Ann  Pease  sut'ny  did  unmind 
huh '  o'  de  dawg  in  de  mangah."  The  friends 
of  the  two  women  took  sides,  and  a  war  began 
which  waged  hotly  between  them — a  war 
[207] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

which  for  the  first  few  weeks  threatened  the 
unity  of  Mt.  Pisgah  Church. 

But  the  church  in  all  times  has  been  some 
thing  of  a  selfish  institution  and  has  known 
how  to  take  care  of  itself.  Now,  Mt.  Pisgah, 
of  necessity,  must  recognise  divorce,  and  of 
equal  necessity,  re-marriage.  So  when  the 
Rev.  Isaiah  Johnson  had  been  appealed  to, 
he  had  spread  his  fat  hands,  closed  his  eyes 
and  said  solemnly,  "Whom  God  hath  fined, 
let  no  man  put  asundah; "  peace,  or  at  best, 
apparent  peace,  settled  upon  the  troubled 
waters. 

The  solidity  of  Mt.  Pisgah  was  assured,  the 
two  factions  again  spoke  to  each  other,  both 
gave  collections  on  the  same  Sunday;  but  be 
tween  the  two  principals  there  was  no  abate 
ment  of  their  relentless  animosity. 

Ann  Pease  as  it  happened  was  a  "  puffes- 
sor,"  while  the  new  Mrs.  Pease  was  out  of  the 
fold;  a  gay,  frivolous  person  who  had  never 
sought  or  found  grace.  She  laughed  when  a 
black  wag  said  of  the  two  that  "  they  might 
[208] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

bofe  be  '  peas,'  but  dey  wasn't  out  o'  de  same 
pod."  But  on  its  being  repeated  to  Sister 
Pease,  she  resented  it  with  Christian  indigna 
tion,  sniffed  and  remarked  that  "  Ef  Wi'yum 
choosed  to  pick  out  one  o'  de  onregenerate  an' 
hang  huh  ez  a  millstone  erroun'  his  neck,  it 
wasn't  none  o'  huh  bus'ness  what  happened  to 
him  w'en  dey  pulled  up  de  tares  fom  de 
wheat." 

There  were  some  ultra-malicious  ones  who 
said  that  Sister  Pease,  seeing  her  former  hus 
band  in  the  possession  of  another,  had  begun 
to  regret  her  step,  for  the  unregenerate  Wil 
liam  was  good-looking  after  all,  and  the 
"times"  that  he  and  his  equally  sinful  wife 
had  together  were  the  wonder  and  disgust, 
the  envy  and  horror  of  the  whole  community, 
who  watched  them  with  varying  moods  of 
eagerness. 

Sister  Ann  Pease  went  her  way  apparently 

undisturbed.     Religion  has  an  arrogance  of 

its  own,  and  when  at  the  end  of  the  year  the 

good  widow  remained  unmarried  she  could 

[209] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

toss  her  head,  go  her  way,  and  look  down  from 
a  far  height  upon  the  "  po'  sinnahs";  indeed, 
she  had  rather  the  better  of  her  frailer  sister 
in  the  sympathies  of  the  people. 

As  one  sister  feelingly  remarked,  "  Dat 
ooman  des  baihin'  dat  man  in  huh  prayahs, 
an'  I  'low  she'll  mou'n  him  into  glory  yit." 

One  year  of  married  life  disillusions,  and 
defiant  gaiety  cannot  live  upon  itself  when 
admiration  fails.  There  is  no  reward  in  be 
ing  daring  when  courage  becomes  common 
place.  The  year  darkened  to  winter,  and 
bloomed  to  spring  again.  The  willows 
feathered  along  the  river  banks,  and  the  horse- 
chestnuts  budded  and  burst  into  beautiful  life. 
Then  came  summer,  rejoicing,  with  arms  full 
of  flowers,  and  autumn  with  lap  full  of  apples 
and  grain,  then  winter  again,  and  all  through 
the  days  Nancy  danced  and  was  gay,  but  there 
was  a  wistfulness  in  her  eyes,  and  the  tug  of 
the  baby  no  longer  drew  her  heart.  She  had 
come  to  be  "Wi'yurrTs  Nancy,"  while  the 
other,  that  other  was  still  "  Sister  Pease,"  who 
[210] 


THE  HEART.  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

sat  above  her  in  the  high  places  of  the  people's 
hearts. 

And  then,  oh,  blessedness  of  the  winter,  the 
revival  came;  and  both  she  and  William, 
strangely  stricken  together  with  the  realisa 
tion  of  their  sins,  fell  at  the  mercy  seat. 

"  There  is  more  joy  over  one  sinner  that  re- 
penteth," — but  when  Will  and  Nancy  both 
"  came  through "  on  the  same  night — well, 
Mt.  Pisgah's  walls  know  the  story. 

There  was  triumph  in  Nancy's  face  as  she 
proclaimed  her  conversion,  and  the  first  per 
son  she  made  for  was  Sister  Pease.  She  shook 
her  hands  and  embraced  her,  crying  ever 
aloud  between  the  vociferations  of  the  congre 
gation,  "  Oh,  sistah,  he'p  me  praise  Him,  he'p 
me  praise  Him,"  and  the  elder  woman  in  the 
cause  caught  the  infection  of  the  moment  and 
joined  in  the  general  shout. 

Afterwards  she  was  not  pleased  with  her 
self.  But  then  if  she  hadn't  shouted,  wouldn't 
it  have  been  worse? 

The  Rev.  Isaiah  was  nothing  if  not  dra- 

[211] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

matic  in  his  tendencies,  and  on  the  day  when 
he  was  to  receive  William  and  Nancy  Pease 
into  full  membership  with  the  church,  it 
struck  him  that  nothing  could  make  upon  his 
congregation  a  profounder  impression  for 
good  than  to  have  the  two  new  Peases  joined 
by  the  elder  one,  or  as  the  wag  would  have  put 
it,  all  in  one  pod.  And  it  was  so  ordered,  and 
the  thing  was  done. 

It  is  true  that  the  preacher  had  to  labour 
some  with  Sister  Ann  Pease,  but  when  he 
showed  her  how  it  was  her  Christian  duty, 
and  if  she  failed  of  it  her  rival  must  advance 
before  her  in  public  opinion,  she  acquiesced. 
It  was  an  easier  matter  with  "  Sister  Wi'yum 
Pease."  She  agreed  readily,  for  she  was 
filled  with  condescending  humility,  which  on 
every  occasion  she  took  the  opportunity  of 
displaying  toward  her  rival. 

The  Rev.  Isaiah  Johnson  only  made  one 
mistake  in  his  diplomatic  manoeuvring. 
That  was  when  he  whispered  to  Sister  Ann 
Pease,  "  Didn't  I  tell  you?  Des  see  how  easy 

[  212  ] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

Sister  Wi'yum  give  in."  He  was  near  to 
losing  his  cause  and  the  wind  was  completely 
taken  out  of  his  sails  when  the  widow  replied 
with  a  snort,  "  Give  in,  my  Lawd!  Dat 
ooman's  got  a  right  to  give  in;  ain't  she  got 
'uligion  an'  de  man,  too?" 

However,  the  storm  blew  over,  and  by  the 
time  service  was  begun  they  were  all  seated 
together  on  a  front  bench,  Sister  Nancy,  Wil 
liam,  and  Sister  Ann. 

Now  was  the  psychological  moment,  and 
after  a  soul-stirring  hymn  the  preacher  rose 
and  announced  his  text — "  Behold  how  good 
and  how  pleasant  it  is  for  brethren  to  dwell 
together  in  unity." 

Someone  in  the  back  part  of  the  church  sug 
gested  trinity  as  a  substitute  and  started  a 
titter,  but  the  preacher  had  already  got  his 
dramatic  momentum,  and  was  sweeping  along 
in  a  tumultuous  tide  of  oratory.  Right  at  his 
three  victims  did  he  aim  his  fiery  eloquence, 
and  ever  and  again  he  came  back  to  his  theme, 
"  Behold  how  good  and  how  pleasant  it  is  for 
[213] 


THE  HEART,  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

brethren  to  dwell  together  in  unity,"  even 
though  Ann  Pease  had  turned  her  back  on 
William,  whose  head  was  low  bowed,  and 
Nancy  was  ostentatiously  weeping  into  a  yel 
low  silk  handkerchief. 

The  sermon  spurred  on  to  a  tempestuous 
close,  and  then  came  the  climax  when  the 
doors  of  the  church  were  opened.  William 
and  Nancy  immediately  went  up  to  end  their 
probation,  and  after  a  few  whispered  remarks 
the  minister  shook  hands  with  each  of  them, 
then  raising  his  voice  he  said:  " Now, 
brothahs  and  sistahs,  befo'  you  all  gives  dese 
lambs  de  right  han'  o'  fellowship  to  welcome 
dem  to  de  fol',  I  want  Sister  Ann  Pease  to 
come  up  an'  be  de  first  to  bid  'em  God  speed 
on  the  gospel  way."  Ann  Pease  visibly 
swelled,  but  she  marched  up,  and  without 
looking  at  either,  shook  hands  witfi  each  of 
her  enemies. 

"  Hallelujah,  praise  de  Lord,"  shouted  the 
preacher,  clapping  his  hands,  "  Behold  how 
good  and  how  pleasant  it  is;  and  now  let  the 
[214] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

congregation  in  gineral  come  aroun'  and  wel 
come  Brothah  and  Sistah  Pease." 

His  rich  bass  voice  broke  into  "  Bless  Be 
the  Tie  that  Binds,"  and  as  the  volume  of 
the  hymn,  swelled  by  the  full  chorus  of  the 
congregation,  rolled  away  to  the  rafters  of  the 
little  church,  the  people  rose  and  marched 
solemnly  round,  shaking  hands  with  the  new 
members  and  with  each  other. 

Brother  and  Sister  Pease  were  the  last  to 
leave  church  that  day,  but  they  found  Ann 
waiting  for  them  at  door.  She  walked 
straight  up  to  them  and  spoke:  "Nancy 
Rogers,"  she  said,  "I  know  you;  I  kin  see 
claih  thoo  you,  and  you  ain't  a  foolin'  me  one 
bit.  All  I  got  to  say  is  dat  I  has  done 
my  Christian  duty,  an'  I  ain't  gwine  do 
no  mo',  so  don'  you  speak  to  me  fo'm  dis  day 
out." 

For  the  brief  space  of  a  second  there  was 

something  like  a  gleam  in  Nancy's  eyes,  but 

she  replied  in  all  meekness,  "  I's  a  full-blown 

Christian  now,  an'  I  feel  it  my  bounden  duty 

[215] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

to  speak  to  you,  Sis'  Pease,  an'  I's  gwine  t' 
speak." 

Ignoring  this  defiance  the  other  woman 
turned  to  her  former  husband.  She  looked 
at  him  with  unveiled  contempt,  then  she  said 
slowly,  "An'  ez  fu'  Wi'yum,  Gawd  he'p  you." 

Here  all  intercourse  between  these  warring 
spirits  might  have  ended  but  for  Nancy 
Pease's  persistent  civility.  She  would  speak 
to  her  rival  on  every  occasion,  and  even  call 
upon  her  if  she  could  gain  admittance  to  the 
house.  And  now  the  last  drop  of  bitterness 
fell  into  the  widow's  cup,  for  the  community, 
to  distinguish  between  them,  began  calling  her 
"  Ol'  Sis'  Pease."  This  was  the  climax  of  her 
sorrows,  and  she  who  had  been  so  devout  came 
no  more  to  the  church ;  she  who  had  been  so 
cheerful  and  companionable  grew  morose 
and  sour  and  shut  her  doors  against  her 
friends.  She  was  as  one  dead  to  her  old 
world.  The  one  bit  of  vivid  life  about  her 
was  her  lasting  hatred  of  the  woman  who  bore 
her  name.  In  vain  the  preacher  sought  to 
[216] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

break  down  the  barrier  of  her  animosity.  She 
had  built  it  of  adamant,  and  his  was  a  losing 
fight.  So  for  several  years  the  feud  went  on, 
and  those  who  had  known  Ann  in  her  cheerier 
days  forgot  that  knowledge  and  spoke  of  her 
with  open  aversion  as  "  dat  awful  ol'  Mis' 
Pease."  The  while  Nancy,  in  spite  of 
"Wi'yum's"  industrial  vagaries,  had  flour 
ished  and  waxed  opulent.  She  continued  to 
flaunt  her  Christian  humility  in  the  eyes  of  her 
own  circle,  and  to  withhold  her  pity  from  the 
poor,  lonely  old  woman  whom  hate  had  made 
bitter  and  to  whom  the  world,  after  all,  had 
not  been  over-kind.  But  prosperity  is  usually 
cruel,  and  one  needs  the  prick  of  the  thorn 
one's  self  to  know  how  it  stings  his  brother. 

She  was  startled  one  day,  however,  out  of 
her  usual  placidity.  Sister  Martin,  one  of 
her  neighbours,  dropped  in  and  settling  her 
self  with  a  sigh  announced  the  important 
news,  "Well,  bless  Gawd,  ol'  Sis'  Pease  is 
gone  at  last." 

Nancy  dropped  the  plate  she  had  been  pol- 
[217] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

ishing,  and  unheeded,  it  smashed  into  bits  on 
the  floor. 

"Wha' — what!"  she  exclaimed. 

"  Yes'm,"  Sister  Martin  assured  her,  "  de  oP 
lady  done  passed  away." 

"I  didn't  know  she  was  sick;  w'en  she 
die?" 

"  She  done  shet  huh  eyes  on  dis  worl'  o' 
sorror  des  a  few  minutes  ago.  She  ain't  bin 
sick  mo'n  two  days." 

Nancy  had  come  to  herself  now,  and  casting 
her  eyes  up  in  an  excess  of  Christian  zeal,  she 
said:  "Well,  she  wouldn't  let  me  do  nuffin' 
fu'  huh  in  life,  but  I  sut'ny  shell  try  to  do  my 
duty  by  huh  in  death,"  and  drying  her  hands 
and  throwing  a  shawl  over  her  head,  she 
hastened  over  to  her  dead  enemy's  house. 

The  news  had  spread  quickly  and  the 
neighbourhood  had  just  begun  to  gather  in 
the  little  room  which  held  the  rigid  form. 
Nancy  entered  and  made  her  way  through  the 
group  about  the  bed,  waving  the  others  aside 
imperiously. 

[218] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"It  is  my  Christian  duty,"  she  said  sol 
emnly,  "  to  lay  Sis'  Pease  out,  an'  I's  gvvine  do 
it."  She  bent  over  the  bed.  Now  there  are 
a  dozen  truthful  women  who  will  vouch  for 
the  truth  of  what  happened.  When  Nancy 
leaned  over  the  bed,  as  if  in  obedience  to  the 
po\ver  of  an  electric  shock,  the  corpse's  eyes 
flew  open,  Ann  Pease  rose  up  in  bed  and  point 
ing  a  trembling  finger  at  her  frightened  name 
sake  exclaimed:  "  Go  'way  f'om  me,  Nancy 
Rogers,  don't  you  daih  to  tech  me.  You  ain't 
got  de  come-uppance  of  me  yit.  Don't  you 
daih  to  lay  me  out." 

Most  of  this  remark,  it  seems,  fell  on  empty 
air,  for  the  room  was  cleared  in  a  twinkling. 
Women  holding  high  numerous  skirts  over 
their  heavy  shoes  fled  in  a  panic,  and  close  in 
their  wake  panted  Nancy  Pease. 

There  have  been  conflicting  stories  about 
the  matter,  but  there  are  those  who  maintain 
that  after  having  delivered  her  ultimatum, 
old  Mis'  Pease  immediately  resumed  the  nat 
ural  condition  of  a  dead  person.  In  fact  there 
[219] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

was  no  one  there  to  see,  and  the  old  lady  did 
not  really  die  until  night,  and  when  they  found 
her,  there  was  a  smile  of  triumph  on  her 
face. 
Nancy  did  not  help  to  lay  her  out. 


[220] 


THE  LYNCHING  OF  JUBE  BENSON 


XII 
THE  LYNCHING  OF  JUBE  BENSON 

GORDON  FAIRFAX'S  library  held 
but  three  men,  but  the  air  was  dense 
with  clouds  of  smoke.  The  talk 
had  drifted  from  one  topic  to  another  much 
as  the  smoke  wreaths  had  puffed,  floated,  and 
thinned  away.  Then  Handon  Gay,  who  was 
an  ambitious  young  reporter,  spoke  of  a  lynch 
ing  story  in  a  recent  magazine,  and  the  matter 
of  punishment  without  trial  put  new  life  into 
the  conversation. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  a  real  lynching,"  said 
Gay  rather  callously. 

"  Well,  I  should  hardly  express  it  that  way," 
said  Fairfax,  "  but  if  a  real,  live  lynching  were 
to  come  my  way,  I  should  not  avoid  it." 

"  I  should,"  spoke  the  other  from  the  depths 

of  his  chair,  where  he  had  been  puffing  in 

moody  silence.     Judged  by  his  hair,  which 

was  freely  sprinkled  with  gray,  the  speaker 

[223] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

might  have  been  a  man  of  forty-five  or  fifty, 
but  his  face,  though  lined  and  serious,  was 
youthful,  the  face  of  a  man  hardly  past  thirty. 

"What,  you,  Dr.  Melville?  Why,  I 
thought  that  you  physicians  wouldn't  weaken 
at  anything." 

"  I  have  seen  one  such  affair,"  said  the  doc 
tor  gravely,  "  in  fact,  I  took  a  prominent  part 
in  it." 

"  Tell  us  about  it,"  said  the  reporter,  feeling 
for  his  pencil  and  note-book,  which  he  was, 
nevertheless,  careful  to  hide  from  the  speaker. 

The  men  drew  their  chairs  eagerly  up  to 
the  doctor's,  but  for  a  minute  he  did  not  seem 
to  see  them,  but  sat  gazing  abstractedly  into 
the  fire,  then  he  took  a  long  draw  upon  his 
cigar  and  began : 

"  I  can  see  it  all  very  vividly  now.  It  was 
in  the  summer  time  and  about  seven  years  ago. 
I  was  practising  at  the  time  down  in  the  little 
town  of  Bradford.  It  was  a  small  and  primi 
tive  place,  just  the  location  for  an  impecunious 
medical  man,  recently  out  of  college. 
[224] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"  In  lieu  of  a  regular  office,  I  attended  to 
business  in  the  first  of  two  rooms  which  I 
rented  from  Hiram  Daly,  one  of  the  more 
prosperous  of  the  townsmen.  Here  I  boarded 
and  here  also  came  my  patients — white  and 
black — whites  from  every  section,  and  blacks 
from  '  nigger  town,'  as  the  west  portion  of 
the  place  was  called. 

"  The  people  about  me  were  most  of  them 
coarse  and  rough,  but  they  were  simple  and 
generous,  and  as  time  passed  on  I  had  about 
abandoned  my  intention  of  seeking  distinction 
in  wider  fields  and  determined  to  settle  into 
the  place  of  a  modest  country  doctor.  This 
was  rather  a  strange  conclusion  for  a  young 
man  to  arrive  at,  and  I  wrill  not  deny  that  the 
presence  in  the  house  of  my  host's  beautiful 
young  daughter,  Annie,  had  something  to  do 
with  my  decision.  She  was  a  beautiful  young 
girl  of  seventeen  or  eighteen,  and  very  far 
superior  to  her  surroundings.  She  had  a 
native  grace  and  a  pleasing  way  about  her  that 
made  everybody  that  came  under  her  spell  her 
[225] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW, 

abject  slave.  White  and  black  who  knew  her 
loved  her,  and  none,  I  thought,  more  deeply 
and  respectfully  than  Jube  Benson,  the  black 
man  of  all  work  about  the  place. 

"  He  was  a  fellow  whom  everybody  trusted; 
an  apparently  steady-going,  grinning  sort,  as 
we  used  to  call  him.  Well,  he  was  completely 
under  Miss  Annie's  thumb,  and  would  fetch 
and  carry  for  her  like  a  faithful  dog.  As 
soon  as  he  saw  that  I  began  to  care  for  Annie, 
and  anybody  could  see  that,  he  transferred 
some  of  his  allegiance  to  me  and  became  my 
faithful  servitor  also.  Never  did  a  man  have 
a  more  devoted  adherent  in  his  wooing  than 
did  I,  and  many  a  one  of  Annie's  tasks  which 
he  volunteered  to  do  gave  her  an  extra  hour 
with  me.  You  can  imagine  that  I  liked  the 
boy  and  you  need  not  wonder  any  more  that 
as  both  wooing  and  my  practice  waxed  apace, 
I  was  content  to  give  up  my  great  ambitions 
and  stay  just  where  I  was. 

"  It  wasn't  a  very  pleasant  thing,  then,  to 
have  an  epidemic  of  typhoid  break  out  in  the 
[226] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

town  that  kept  me  going  so  that  I  hardly  had 
time  for  the  courting  that  a  fellow  wants  to 
carry  on  with  his  sweetheart  while  he  is  still 
young  enough  to  call  her  his  girl.  I  fumed, 
but  duty  was  duty,  and  I  kept  to  my  work 
night  and  day.  It  was  now  that  Jube  proved 
how  invaluable  he  was  as  a  coadjutor.  He 
not  only  took  messages  to  Annie,  but  brought 
sometimes  little  ones  from  her  to  me,  and  he 
would  tell  me  little  secret  things  that  he  had 
overheard  her  say  that  made  me  throb  with 
joy  and  swear  at  him  for  repeating  his  mis 
tress'  conversation.  But  best  of  all,  Jube  was 
a  perfect  Cerberus,  and  no  one  on  earth  could 
have  been  more  effective  in  keeping  away  or 
deluding  the  other  young  fellows  who  visited 
the  Dalys.  He  would  tell  me  of  it  after 
wards,  chuckling  softly  to  himself.  'An', 
Doctah,  I  say  to  Mistah  Hemp  Stevens, 
"'Scuse  us,  Mistah  Stevens,  but  Miss  Annie, 
she  des  gone  out,"  an'  den  he  go  outer  de  gate 
lookin'  moughty  lonesome.  When  Sam  Elk- 
ins  come,  I  say,  "  Sh,  Mistah  Elkins,  Miss 
[227] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

Annie,  she  done  tuk  down,"  an'  he  say, 

"What,  Jube,  you  don'  reckon  hit  de " 

Den  he  stop  an'  look  skeert,  an'  I  say,  "  I 
feared  hit  is,  Mistah  Elkins,"  an'  sheks  my 
haid  ez  solemn.  He  goes  outer  de  gate  lookin' 
lak  his  bes'  frien'  done  daid,  an'  all  de  time 
Miss  Annie  behine  de  cu'tain  ovah  de  po'ch 
des'  a  laffin'  fit  to  kill.' 

"Jube  was  a  most  admirable  liar,  but  what 
could  I  do?  He  knew  that  I  was  a  young 
fool  of  a  hypocrite,  and  when  I  would  rebuke 
him  for  these  deceptions,  he  would  give  way 
and  roll  on  the  floor  in  an  excess  of  delighted 
laughter  until  from  very  contagion  I  had  to 
join  him — and,  well,  there  was  no  need  of  my 
preaching  when  there  had  been  no  beginning 
to  his  repentance  and  when  there  must  ensue 
a  continuance  of  his  wrong-doing. 

"This  thing  went  on  for  over  three  months, 
and  then,  pouf !  I  was  down  like  a  shot.  My 
patients  were  nearly  all  up,  but  the  reaction 
from  overwork  made  me  an  easy  victim  of  the 
lurking  germs.  Then  Jube  loomed  up  as  a 

[228] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

nurse.  He  put  everyone  else  aside,  and  with 
the  doctor,  a  friend  of  mine  from  a  neighbour 
ing  town,  took  entire  charge  of  me.  Even 
Annie  herself  was  put  aside,  and  I  was  cared 
for  as  tenderly  as  a  baby.  Tom,  that  was  my 
physician  and  friend,  told  me  all  about  it 
afterward  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  Only  he  was 
a  big,  blunt  man  and  his  expressions  did  not 
convey  all  that  he  meant.  He  told  me  how 
my  nigger  had  nursed  me  as  if  I  were  a  sick 
kitten  and  he  my  mother.  Of  how  fiercely  he 
guarded  his  right  to  be  the  sole  one  to  '  do ' 
for  me,  as  he  called  it,  and  how,  when  the 
crisis  came,  he  hovered,  weeping,  but  hopeful, 
at  my  bedside,  until  it  was  safely  passed,  when 
they  drove  him,  weak  and  exhausted,  from 
the  room.  As  for  me,  I  knew  little  about  it 
at  the  time,  and  cared  less.  I  was  too  busy  in 
my  fight  with  death.  To  my  chimerical 
vision  there  was  only  a  black  but  gentle  demon 
that  came  and  went,  alternating  with  a  white 
fairy,  who  would  insist  on  coming  in  on  her 
head,  growing  larger  and  larger  and  then  dis- 
[229] 


THE  HEART,  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

solving.  But  the  pathos  and  devotion  in  the 
story  lost  nothing  in  my  blunt  friend's  telling. 

"  It  was  during  the  period  of  a  long  con 
valescence,  however,  that  I  came  to  know  my 
humble  ally  as  he  really  was,  devoted  to  the 
point  of  abjectness.  There  were  times  when 
for  very  shame  at  his  goodness  to  me,  I  would 
beg  him  to  go  away,  to  do  something  else.  He 
would  go,  but  before  I  had  time  to  realise  that 
I  was  not  being  ministered  to,  he  would  be 
back  at  my  side,  grinning  and  pottering  just 
the  same.  He  manufactured  duties  for  the 
joy  of  performing  them.  He  pretended  to  see 
desires  in  me  that  I  never  had,  because  he  liked 
to  pander  to  them,  and  when  I  became  entirely 
exasperated,  and  ripped  out  a  good  round 
oath,  he  chuckled  with  the  remark,  '  Dah, 
now,  you  sholy  is  gittin'  well.  Nevah  did 
hyeah  a  man  anywhaih  nigh  Jordan's  sho'  cuss 
lak  dat.' 

"Why,  I  grew  to  love  him,  love  him,  oh, 
yes,  I  loved  him  as  well — oh,  what  am  I  say 
ing?  All  human  love  and  gratitude  are 
[230] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

damned  poor  things;  excuse  me,  gentlemen, 
this  isn't  a  pleasant  story.  The  truth  is  usually 
a  nasty  thing  to  stand. 

"  It  was  not  six  months  after  that  that  my 
friendship  to  Jube,  which  he  had  been  at  such 
great  pains  to  win,  was  put  to  too  severe  a  test. 

"  It  was  in  the  summer  time  again,  and  as 
business  was  slack,  I  had  ridden  over  to  see  my 
friend,  Dr.  Tom.  I  had  spent  a  good  part  of 
the  day  there,  and  it  was  past  four  o'clock 
when  I  rode  leisurely  into  Bradford.  I  was 
in  a  particularly  joyous  mood  and  no  premo 
nition  of  the  impending  catastrophe  oppressed 
me.  No  sense  of  sorrow,  present  or  to  come, 
forced  itself  upon  me,  even  when  I  saw  men 
hurrying  through  the  almost  deserted  streets. 
When  I  got  within  sight  of  my  home  and  saw 
a  crowd  surrounding  it,  I  was  only  interested 
sufficiently  to  spur  my  horse  into  a  jog  trot, 
which  brought  me  up  to  the  throng,  when 
something  in  the  sullen,  settled  horror  in  the 
men's  faces  gave  me  a  sudden,  sick  thrill. 
They  whispered  a  word  to  me,  and  without  a 
[231] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

thought,  save  for  Annie,  the  girl  who  had  been 
so  surely  growing  into  my  heart,  I  leaped 
from  the  saddle  and  tore  my  way  through  the 
people  to  the  house. 

"  It  was  Annie,  poor  girl,  bruised  and  bleed 
ing,  her  face  and  dress  torn  from  struggling. 
They  were  gathered  round  her  with  white 
faces,  and,  oh,  with  what  terrible  patience  they 
were  trying  to  gain  from  her  fluttering  lips 
the  name  of  her  murderer.  They  made  way 
for  me  and  I  knelt  at  her  side.  She  was  be 
yond  my  skill,  and  my  will  merged  with 
theirs.  One  thought  was  in  our  minds. 

"'  Who?  'I  asked. 

"Her  eyes  half  opened,  'That  black ' 

She  fell  back  into  my  arms  dead. 

"We  turned  and  looked  at  each  other. 
The  mother  had  broken  down  and  was  weep 
ing,  but  the  face  of  the  father  was  like  iron. 

1  It  is  enough,'  he  said;  'Jube  has  disap 
peared.'  He  went  to  the  door  and  said  to  the 
expectant  crowd,  '  She  is  dead.' 

"  I  heard  the  angry  roar  without  swelling 
[232] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

up  like  the  noise  of  a  flood,  and  then  I  heard 
the  sudden  movement  of  many  feet  as  the  men 
separated  into  searching  parties,  and  laying 
the  dead  girl  back  upon  her  couch,  I  took  my 
rifle  and  went  out  to  join  them. 

"As  if  by  intuition  the  knowledge  had 
passed  among  the  men  that  Jube  Benson  had 
disappeared,  and  he,  by  common  consent,  was 
to  be  the  object  of  our  search.  Fully  a  dozen 
of  the  citizens  had  seen  him  hastening  toward 
the  woods  and  noted  his  skulking  air,  but  as 
he  had  grinned  in  his  old  good-natured  way 
they  had,  at  the  time,  thought  nothing  of  it. 
Now,  however,  the  diabolical  reason  of  his 
slyness  was  apparent.  He  had  been  shrewd 
enough  to  disarm  suspicion,  and  by  now  was 
far  away.  Even  Mrs.  DalVj  who  was  visiting 
with  a  neighbour,  had  seen  him  stepping  out 
by  a  back  way,  and  had  said  with  a  laugh,  '  I 
reckon  that  black  rascal's  a-running  off  some 
where.'  Oh,  if  she  had  only  known. 

" '  To  the  woods !  To  the  woods ! '  that  was 
the  cry,  and  away  we  went,  each  with  the  de- 
[233] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

termination  not  to  shoot,  but  to  bring  the  cul 
prit  alive  into  town,  and  then  to  deal  with  him 
as  his  crime  deserved. 

"I  cannot  describe  the  feelings  I  experi 
enced  as  I  went  out  that  night  to  beat  the 
woods  for  this  human  tiger.  My  heart  smoul 
dered  within  me  like  a  coal,  and  I  went  for 
ward  under  the  impulse  of  a  will  that  was  half 
my  own,  half  some  more  malignant  power's. 
My  throat  throbbed  drily,  but  water  nor 
whiskey  would  not  have  quenched  my  thirst. 
The  thought  has  come  to  me  since  that  now  I 
could  interpret  the  panther's  desire  for  blood 
and  sympathise  with  it,  but  then  I  thought 
nothing.  I  simply  went  forward,  and 
watched,  watched  with  burning  eyes  for  a 
familiar  form  that  I  had  looked  for  as  often 
before  with  such  different  emotions. 

"  Luck  or  ill-luck,  which  you  will,  was  with 
our  party,  and  just  as  dawn  was  graying  the 
sky,  we  came  upon  our  quarry  crouched  in  the 
corner  of  a  fence.  It  was  only  half  light,  and 
we  might  have  passed,  but  my  eyes  had  caught 
[234] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

sight  of  him,  and  I  raised  the  cry.  We  lev 
elled  our  guns  and  he  rose  and  came 
toward  us. 

" '  I  fought  you  wa'n't  gwine  see  me,'  he 
said  sullenly,  ( I  didn't  mean  no  harm.' 

"'Harm!' 

"  Some  of  the  men  took  the  word  up  with 
oaths,  others  were  ominously  silent. 

"We  gathered  around  him  like  hungry 
beasts,  and  I  began  to  see  terror  dawning  in 
his  eyes.  He  turned  to  me,  *  I's  moughty  glad 
you's  hyeah,  doc,'  he  said,  '  you  ain't  gwine  let 
'em  whup  me.' 

"  '  Whip  you,  you  hound,'  I  said, '  I'm  going 
to  see  you  hanged,'  and  in  the  excess  of  my 
passion  I  struck  him  full  on  the  mouth.  He 
made  a  motion  as  if  to  resent  the  blow  against 
even  such  great  odds,  but  controlled  himself. 

U(W'y,  doctah,'  he  exclaimed  in  the  saddest 
voice  I  have  ever  heard,  'w'y,  doctah!  I  ain't 
stole  nuffin'  o'  yo'n,  an'  I  was  comin'  back.  I 
only  run  off  to  see  my  gal,  Lucy,  ovah  to  de 
Centah.' 

[235] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"  '  You  lie ! '  I  said,  and  my  hands  were  busy 
helping  the  others  bind  him  upon  a  horse. 
Why  did  I  do  it?  I  don't  know.  A  false 
education,  I  reckon,  one  false  from  the  be 
ginning.  I  saw  his  black  face  glooming  there 
in  the  half  light,  and  I  could  only  think  of  him 
as  a  monster.  It's  tradition.  At  first  I  was 
told  that  the  black  man  would  catch  me,  and 
when  I  got  over  that,  they  taught  me  that  the 
devil  was  black,  and  when  I  had  recovered 
from  the  sickness  of  that  belief,  here  were 
Jube  and  his  fellows  with  faces  of  menacing 
blackness.  There  was  only  one  conclusion: 
This  black  man  stood  for  all  the  powers  of 
evil,  the  result  of  whose  machinations  had 
been  gathering  in  my  mind  from  childhood 
up.  But  this  has  nothing  to  do  with  what 
happened. 

"After  firing  a  few  shots  to  announce  our 
capture,  we  rode  back  into  town  with  Jube. 
The  ingathering  parties  from  all  directions 
met  us  as  we  made  our  way  up  to  the  house. 
All  was  very  quiet  and  orderly.  There  was 
[236] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

no  doubt  that  it  was  as  the  papers  would  have 
said,  a  gathering  of  the  best  citizens.  It  was  a 
gathering  of  stern,  determined  men,  bent  on 
a  terrible  vengeance. 

uWe  took  Jube  into  the  house,  into  the 
room  where  the  corpse  lay.  At  sight  of  it, 
he  gave  a  scream  like  an  animal's  and  his  face 
went  the  colour  of  storm-blown  water.  This 
was  enough  to  condemn  him.  We  divined, 
rather  than  heard,  his  cry  of  '  Miss  Ann,  Miss 
Ann,  oh,  my  God,  doc,  you  don't  t'ink  I  done 
it?' 

"  Hungry  hands  were  ready.  We  hurried 
him  out  into  the  yard.  A  rope  was  ready.  A 
tree  was  at  hand.  Well,  that  part  was  the 
least  of  it,  save  that  Hiram  Daly  stepped  aside 
to  let  me  be  the  first  to  pull  upon  the  rope.  It 
was  lax  at  first.  Then  it  tightened,  and  I  felt 
the  quivering  soft  weight  resist  my  muscles. 
Other  hands  joined,  and  Jube  swung  off  his 
feet. 

"No  one  was  masked.      We  knew  eacK 
other.     Not  even  the  culprit's  face  was  cov- 
[237] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

ered,  and  the  last  I  remember  of  him  as  he 
went  into  the  air  was  a  look  of  sad  reproach 
that  will  remain  with  me  until  I  meet  him 
face  to  face  again. 

"We  were  tying  the  end  of  the  rope  to  a 
tree,  where  the  dead  man  might  hang  as  a 
warning  to  his  fellows,  when  a  terrible  cry 
chilled  us  to  the  marrow. 

" '  Cut  'im  down,  cut  'im  down,  he  ain't 
guilty.  We  got  de  one.  Cut  him  down,  fu' 
Gawd's  sake.  Here's  de  man,  we  foun'  him 
hidin'  in  de  barn!' 

"Jube's  brother,  Ben,  and  another  Negro, 
came  rushing  toward  us,  half  dragging,  half 
carrying  a  miserable-looking  wretch  between 
them.  Someone  cut  the  rope  and  Jube 
dropped  lifeless  to  the  ground. 

"<Oh,  my  Gawd,  he's  daid,  he's  daid!' 
wailed  the  brother,  but  with  blazing  eyes  he 
brought  his  captive  into  the  centre  of  the 
group,  and  we  saw  in  the  full  light  the 
scratched  face  of  Tom  Skinner — the  worst 
white  ruffian  in  the  town — but  the  face  we  saw 
[238] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

was  not  as  we  were  accustomed  to  see  it,  merely 
smeared  with  dirt.  It  was  blackened  to  imi 
tate  a  Negro's. 

"God  forgive  me;  I  could  not  wait  to  try 
to  resuscitate  Jube.  I  knew  he  was  already 
past  help,  so  I  rushed  into  the  house  and  to 
the  dead  girl's  side.  In  the  excitement  they 
had  not  yet  washed  or  laid  her  out.  Care 
fully,  carefully,  I  searched  underneath  her 
broken  finger  nails.  There  was  skin  there. 
I  took  it  out,  the  little  curled  pieces,  and  went 
with  it  to  my  office. 

"There,  determinedly,  I  examined  it  under 
a  powerful  glass,  and  read  my  own  doom.  It 
was  the  skin  of  a  white  man,  and  in  it  were 
embedded  strands  of  short,  brown  hair  or 
beard. 

"  How  I  went  out  to  tell  the  waiting  crowd 
I  do  not  know,  for  something  kept  crying  in 
my  ears,  'Blood  guilty!  Blood  guilty!' 

"The  men  went  away  stricken  into  silence 
and    awe.       The    new    prisoner    attempted 
neither  denial  nor  plea.      When  they  were 
[239] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

gone  I  would  have  helped  Ben  carry  his 
brother  in,  but  he  waved  me  away  fiercely, 
4  You  he'ped  murder  my  brothah,  you  dat  was 
his  frien',  go  'way,  go  'way!  I'll  tek  him 
home  myse'f.'  I  could  only  respect  his  wish, 
and  he  and  his  comrade  took  up  the  dead  man 
and  between  them  bore  him  up  the  street  on 
which  the  sun  was  now  shining  full. 

"  I  saw  the  few  men  who  had  not  skulked 
indoors  uncover  as  they  passed,  and  I — I — 
stood  there  between  the  two  murdered  ones, 
while  all  the  while  something  in  my  ears  kept 
crying,  '  Blood  guilty!  Blood  guilty!' 

The  doctor's  head  dropped  into  his  hands 
and  he  sat  for  some  time  in  silence,  which  was 
broken  by  neither  of  the  men,  then  he  rose, 
saying,  "  Gentlemen,  that  was  my  last  lynch 
ing." 


[240 


SCHWALLIGER'S     PHILANTHROPY 


XIII 
SCHWALLIGER'S     PHILANTHROPY 

THERE  is  no  adequate  reason  why 
Schwalliger's  name  should  appear 
upon  the  pages  of  history.  He  was 
decidedly  not  in  good  society.  He  was  not 
even  respectable  as  respectability  goes.  But 
certain  men  liked  him  and  certain  women 
loved  him.  He  is  dead.  That  is  all  that  will 
be  said  of  the  most  of  us  after  a  while.  He 
was  but  a  weak  member  of  the  community, 
but  those  who  loved  him  did  not  condemn 
him,  and  they  shut  their  eyes  to  his  shortcom 
ings  because  they  were  a  part  of  him.  With 
out  his  follies  he  would  not  have  been  him 
self. 

Schwalliger  was  only  a  race-horse  "  tout." 

Ah,  don't  hold  up  your  hands,  good  friends, 

for  circumstances  of  birth  make  most  of  us 

what  we  are,  whether  poets  or  pickpockets, 

[243] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

and  if  this  thick-set,  bow-legged  black  man 
became  a  "tout"  it  was  because  he  had  to. 
Old  horsemen  will  tell  you  that  Schwalliger 
—no  one  knew  where  he  got  the  name — was 
rolling  and  tumbling  about  the  track  at  Ben- 
nings  when  he  was  still  so  short  in  stature  that 
he  got  the  name  of  the  "  tadpole."  Naturally, 
he  came  to  know  much  of  horses,  grew  up 
with  them,  in  fact,  and  having  no  wealthy 
father  or  mother  to  indulge  him  in  his  taste 
or  help  him  use  his  knowledge,  he  did  the 
next  best  thing  and  used  his  special  education 
for  himself  in  the  humble  capacity  of  volun 
tary  adviser  to  aspiring  gamesters.  He  pros 
pered  and  blossomed  out  into  good  clothes  of 
a  highly  ornate  pattern.  Naturally,  like  a 
man  in  any  other  business,  he  had  his  ups  and 
downs,  and  there  were  t;mes  when  the  good 
clothes  disappeared  and  he  was  temporarily 
forced  to  return  to  the  occupation  of  rubbing 
down  horses;  but  these  periods  of  depression 
were  of  short  duration,  and  at  the  next  turn 
of  fortune's  wheel  he  would  again  be  on  top. 
[244] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"  No,  thuh,"  he  was  wont  to  say,  with  his 
inimitable  lisp — "  no,  thuh,  you  can't  keep  a 
good  man  down.  'Tain't  no  use  a-talkin',you 
jeth  can't.  It  don't  do  me  no  harm  to  go 
back  to  rubbin'  now  an'  then.  It  jeth  nach- 
ully  keepth  me  on  good  termth  with  de 
hothes." 

And,  indeed,  it  did  seem  that  his  prophecies 
were  surer  and  his  knowledge  more  direct 
after  one  of  these  periods  of  enforced 
humility. 

There  were  various  things  whispered  about 
Schwalliger;  that  he  was  no  more  honest  than 
he  should  be,  that  he  was  not  as  sound  as  he 
might  be;  but  though  it  might  be  claimed, 
and  was,  that  he  would  prophesy,  on  occasion, 
the  success  of  three  different  horses  to  three 
different  men,  no  one  ever  accused  him  of 
being  less  than  fair  with  the  women  who  came 
out  from  the  city  to  enjoy  the  races  and  in 
crease  their  excitement  by  staking  small  sums. 
To  these  Schwalliger  was  the  soul  of  courtesy 
and  honour,  and  if  they  lost  upon  his  advice, 
[245] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

he  was  not  happy  until  he  had  made  it  up  to 
them  again. 

One,  however,  who  sets  himself  to  work  to 
give  a  racehorse  tout  a  character  may  expect 
to  have  his  labour  for  his  pains.  The  pro 
fession  of  his  subject  is  against  him.  He  may 
as  well  put  aside  his  energy  and  say,  "Well, 
perhaps  he  was  a  bad  lot,  but ."  The  pres 
ent  story  is  not  destined  to  put  you  more  in 
love  with  the  hero  of  it,  but 

The  heat  and  enthusiasm  at  Saratoga  and 
the  other  race-courses  was  done,  and  autumn 
and  the  glory  of  Bennings  had  come.  The 
ingratiating  Schwalliger  came  back  with  the 
horses  to  his  old  stamping  ground  and  to  hap 
piness.  The  other  tracks  had  not  treated  him 
kindly,  and  but  for  the  kindness  of  his  equine 
friends,  whom  he  slept  with  and  tended,  he 
might  have  come  back  to  Washington  on  the 
wooden  steps.  But  he  was  back,  and  that  was 
happiness  for  him.  Broke? 

"Well,"  said  Schwalliger,  in  answer  to  a 
trainer's  question,  "  I  ain't  exactly  broke, 
[246] 


THE   HEART   OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

Misthah  Johnthon,  but  I  wath  pretty  badly 
bent.  I  goth  awa  jutht  ath  thoon  ath  I  com- 
menth  to  feel  mythelf  crackin',  but  I'm  hyeah 
to  git  even." 

He  was  only  a  rubber  again,  but  he  began 
to  get  even  early  in  the  week,  and  by  Saturday 
he  was  again  as  like  to  a  rainbow  as  any  of 
his  class.  He  did  not,  however,  throw  away 
his  rubber's  clothes.  He  was  used  to  the 
caprices  of  fortune,  and  he  did  not  know  how 
soon  again  he  should  need  them.  That  he  was 
not  dressed  in  them,  and  yet  saved  them,  made 
him  capable  of  performing  his  one  philan 
thropy. 

Had  he  not  been  gorgeously  dressed  he 
would  not  have  inspired  the  confidence  of  the 
old  Negro  who  came  up  to  him  on  Tuesday 
morning,  disconsolate  and  weeping. 

"Mistah,"  he  said  deferentially  through 
his  tears,  "is  you  a  spo't?" 

Mr.  Schwalliger's  chest  protruded,  and  his 
very  red  lips  opened  in  a  smile  as  he  an 
swered:  "Well,  I  do'  know'th  I'm  tho  much 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

of  a  thpo't,  but  I  think  I  knowth  a  thing  or 
two." 

"You  look  lak  a  spo'tin'  gent'man,  an'  ef 
you  is  I  thought  mebbe  you'd  he'p  me  out." 

"Wha'th  the  mattah?  Up  againtht  it? 
You  look  a  little  ol'  to  be  doin'  the  gay  an' 
frithky."  But  Schwalliger's  eyes  were  kind. 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you  des'  how  it  is,  suh.  I 
come  f'om  down  in  Ma'lan',  'case  I  wanted 
to  see  de  hosses  run.  My  ol'  mastah  was 
moughty  fon'  of  sich  spo't,  an'  I  kin'  o'  likes 
it  myse'f,  dough  I  don't  nevah  bet,  suh.  I's 
a  chu'ch  membah.  But  yistiddy  aftahnoon 
dee  was  two  gent'men  what  I  seen  playin'  wid 
a  leetle  ball  an'  some  cups  ovah  it,  an'  I  went 
up  to  look  on,  an'  lo  an'  behol',  suh,  it  was 
one  o'  dese  money-mekin'  t'ings.  W'y,  I  seen 
de  man  des'  stan'  dere  an'  mek  money  by  the 
fis'ful.  Well,  I  'low  I  got  sorter  wo'ked  up. 
De  men  dee  axed  me  to  bet,  but  I  'low  how  I 
was  a  chu'ch  membah  an'  didn't  tek  pa't  in 
no  sich  carryin's  on,  an'  den  dee  said  'twan't 
nuffin  mo'  den  des'  a  chu'ch  raffle,  an'  it  was 
[248] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

mo'  fun  den  anyt'ing  else.  I  des'  say  dat  I 
could  fin'  de  little  ball,  an'  dee  said  I  couldn't, 
an'  if  I  fin'  it  dee  gin  me  twenty  dollahs,  an'  if 
I  didn'  I  des'  gin  'em  ten  dollahs.  I  shuk  my 
haid.  I  wa'n't  gwine  be  tempted,  an'  I  try  to 
pull  myse'f  erway.  Ef  I'd  'a'  gone  den  'twould 
'a'  been  all  right,  but  I  stayed  an'  I  stayed,  an' 
I  looked,  an'  I  looked,  an'  it  did  seem  lak  it 
was  so  easy.  At  las',  mistah,  I  tried  it,  an'  I 
didn'  fin'  dat  ball,  an'  dee  got  my  ten  dollahs, 
an'  dat  was  all  I  had." 

"  Uh,  huh,"  said  Schwalliger  grimly,  "  thell 
game,  an'  dey  did  you."  The  old  man  shuffled 
uneasily,  but  continued: 

"  Yes,  suh,  dee  done  me,  an'  de  worst  of  it 
is,  I's  'fraid  to  go  home,  even  ef  I  could  get 
dere,  'case  dee  boun'  to  axe  me  how  I  los'  dat 
money,  an'  dee  ain't  no  way  fu'  me  to  hide  it, 
an'  ef  dee  fin'  out  I  been  gamblin'  I'll  git 
chu'ched  fu'  it,  an'  I  been  a  pufTessor  so 
long—  The  old  man's  voice  broke,  and 

Schwalliger  smiled  the  crooked  smile  of  a 
man  whose  heart  is  touched. 
[249] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"Whereth  thith  push  wo'kin'?"  he  said 
briefly. 

"  Right  ovah  thaih,"  said  the  old  Negro,  in 
dicating  a  part  of  the  grounds  not  far  dis 
tant. 

"All  right,  you  go  on  ovah  thaih  an'  wait 
fu'  me;  an'  if  you  thee  me,  remembah,  you 
don't  thee  me.  I  don't  know  you,  you  don't 
know  me,  but  I'll  try  to  thee  you  out  all 
right." 

The  old  man  went  on  his  way,  a  new  light 
in  his  eyes  at  the  hope  Schwalliger  had  in 
spired.  Schwalliger  himself  made  his  way 
back  to  the  stables;  his  dirty,  horsy,  rubber's 
outfit  was  there.  He  smiled  intelligently  as 
he  looked  at  it.  He  was  smiling  in  a  different 
manner  when,  all  dressed  in  it,  he  came  up 
nearer  to  the  grand  stand.  It  was  a  very  inane 
smile.  He  looked  the  very  image  of  sim 
plicity  and  ignorance,  like  a  man  who  was 
anxious  and  ready  to  be  duped.  He  strolled 
carelessly  up  to  where  the  little  game  with  the 
little  ball  was  going  on,  and  stood  there  look- 
[250] 


Schwalliger. 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

ing  foolishly  on.  The  three  young  men — 
ostensibly  there  was  only  one — were  doing  a 
rushing  business.  They  were  playing  very 
successfully  on  that  trait  of  human  nature 
which  feels  itself  glorified  and  exalted  when 
it  has  got  something  for  nothing.  The  rustics, 
black  and  white,  and  some  who  had  not  the 
excuse  of  rusticity,  were  falling  readily  into 
the  trap  and  losing  their  hard-earned  money. 
Every  now  and  then  a  man — one  of  their  con 
federates,  of  course,  would  make  a  striking 
winning,  and  this  served  as  a  bait  for  the  rest 
of  the  spectators.  Schwalliger  looked  on  with 
growing  interest,  always  smiling  an  igno 
rant,  simple  smile.  Finally,  as  if  he  could 
stand  it  no  longer,  he  ran  his  hand  in  his 
pocket  and  pulled  out  a  roll  of  money — money 
in  its  most  beautiful  and  tempting  form,  the 
long,  green  notes.  Then,  as  if  a  sudden  spirit 
of  prudence  had  taken  possession  of  him,  he 
put  it  back  into  his  pocket,  shook  his  head, 
and  began  working  his  way  out  of  the  crowd. 
But  the  operator  of  the  shell  game  had 
[251] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

caught  sight  of  the  bills,  and  it  was  like  the 
scent  of  blood  to  the  tiger.  His  eye  was  on 
the  simple  Negro  at  once,  and  he  called 
cheerfully: 

"  Come  up,  uncle,  and  try  your  luck.  See 
how  I  manipulate  this  ball.  Easy  enough  to 
find  if  you're  only  lucky."  He  was  so  flip 
pantly  shrewd  that  his  newness  to  the  business 
was  insolently  apparent  to  Schwalliger,  who 
knew  a  thing  or  two  himself.  Schwalliger 
smiled  again  and  shook  his  head. 

"Oh,  no,  thuh,"  he  said,  "I  don't  play 
dat." 

"Why,  come  and  try  your  luck  anyhow;  no 
harm  in  it." 

Schwalliger  took  out  his  money  and  looked 
at  it  again  and  shook  his  head.  He  began 
again  his  backward  movement  from  the 
crowd. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  I  wouldn'  play  erroun' 
hyeah  befo'  all  thethe  people,  becauthe  you 
wouldn't  pay  me  even  ef  I  won." 

"  Why,  of  course  we  would,"  said  the  flip- 
[252] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

pant  operator;  "everybody  looks  alike  to  us 
here." 

Schwalliger  kept  moving  away,  ever  and 
anon  sending  wistful,  inane  glances  back  at 
his  tempter. 

The  bait  worked  admirably.  The  man 
closed  up  his  little  folding  table,  and,  wink 
ing  to  his  confederates,  followed  the  retreat 
ing  Negro.  They  stayed  about  with  the  crowd, 
while  he  followed  on  and  on  until  Schwalli 
ger  had  led  him  into  a  short  alley  between  the 
stables.  There  he  paused  and  allowed  his 
pursuer  to  catch  up  with  him. 

"Thay,  mithtah,"  he  said,  "what  you  keep 
on  follerin'  me  fu'?  I  do'  want  to  play  wid 
you;  I  ain't  got  but  fo'ty  dollahs,  an'  ef  I 
lothe  I'll  have  to  walk  home." 

"Why,  my  dear  fellow,  there  ain't  no  way 
for  you  to  lose.  Come,  now,  let  me  show  you." 
And  he  set  the  table  down  and  began  to  ma 
nipulate  the  ball  dexterously.  "Needn't put 
no  money  down.  Just  see  if  you  can  locate 
the  ball  a  few  times  for  fun." 
[253] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

Schwalliger  consented,  and,  greatly  to  his 
delight,  located  the  little  ball  four  times  out 
of  five.  He  was  grinning  now  and  the  eye  of 
the  tempter  was  gleaming.  Schwalliger  took 
out  his  money. 

"How  much  you  got?"   he  said. 

"Just  eighty-five  dollars,  and  I  will  lay  it 
all  against  your  forty." 

"What  you  got  it  in?"  asked  Schwalliger. 

"  Four  fives,  four  tens,  and  five  five-dollar 
gold-pieces."  And  the  man  displayed  it  osten 
tatiously.  The  tout's  eyes  flashed  as  he  saw 
his  opponent  put  his  money  back  into  his1 
waistcoat  pocket. 

"Well,  I  bet  you,"  he  said,  and  planked  his 
money  down. 

The  operator  took  the  shells  and  swept  the 
pea  first  under  one  then  under  the  other,  and 
laid  the  three  side  by  side.  Schwalliger  laid 
his  hand  upon  one.  He  lifted  it  up  and  there 
was  nothing  there. 

"Ha,  ha,  you've  had  bad  luck,"  said  the 
operator — "you  lose,  you  lose.  Well,  I'm 
[254] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

sorry  for  you,  old  fellow,  but  we  all  take 
chances  in  this  little  game,  you  know."  He 
was  folding  up  his  table  when  all  of  a  sudden 
a  cry  arose  to  heaven  from  Schwalliger's  lips, 
and  he  grappled  with  the  very  shrewd  young 
man,  while  shriek  on  shriek  of  "  Murder! 
Robber!  Police!"  came  from  his  lips.  The 
police  at  Bennings  were  not  slow  to  answer 
a  call  like  this,  and  they  came  running  up,  and 
Schwalliger,  who,  among  other  things,  was 
something  of  an  actor,  told  his  story  tremb 
ling,  incoherently,  while  the  operator  looked 
on  aghast.  Schwalliger  demanded  protection. 
He  had  been  robbed.  He  had  bet  his  eighty- 
five  dollars  against  the  operator's  forty,  and 
when  he  had  accidentally  picked  out  the  right 
shell  the  operator  had  grabbed  his  money  and 
attempted  to  escape.  He  wanted  his  money. 
He  had  eighty-five  dollars,  he  said.  "  He  had 
fo'  fiveth,  fo'  tenth,  and  five  five-dollar  gold- 
pieceth,  an'  he  wanted  them." 

The  policeman  was  thorough.     He  made 
his  search  at  once.    It  was  even  as  Schwalliger 
[255] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

had  said.  The  money  was  on  the  gambler 
even  as  the  Negro  had  said.  Well,  there  was 
nothing  but  justice  to  be  done.  The  officers 
returned  the  eighty-five  dollars  to  Schwalli- 
ger,  and  out  of  an  unusual  access  of  clemency 
bade  the  operator  begone  or  they  would  run 
him  in. 

When  he  had  gone,  Schwalliger  turned 
and  winked  slowly  at  the  minions  of  the  law, 
and  went  quietly  into  a  corner  with  them,  and 
there  was  the  sound  of  the  shuffling  of  silken 
paper.  Later  on  he  found  the  old  man  and 
returned  him  his  ten,  and  went  back  to  don 
his  Jacob's  coat. 

Who  shall  say  that  Schwalliger  was  not  a 
true  philanthropist? 


[256] 


THE    INTERFERENCE     OF    PATSY 

ANN 


XIV 

THE    INTERFERENCE     OF    PATSY 

ANN 

PATSY  ANN  MERIWEATHER 
would  have  told  you  that  her  father, 
or  more  properly  her  "  pappy,"  was  a 
"  widover,"  and  she  would  have  added  in  her 
sad  little  voice,  with  her  mournful  eyes  upon 
you,  that  her  mother  had  "bin  daid  fu'  nigh 
onto  fou'  yeahs."  Then  you  could  have  wept 
for  Patsy,  for  her  years  were  only  thirteen 
now,  and  since  the  passing  away  of  her  mother 
she  had  been  the  little  mother  for  her  four 
younger  brothers  and  sisters,  as  well  as  her 
father's  housekeeper. 

But  Patsy  Ann  never  complained;  she  was 
quite  willing  to  be  all  that  she  had  been  until 
such  time  as  Isaac  and  Dora,  Cassie  and  little 
John  should  be  old  enough  to  care  for  them 
selves,  and  also  to  lighten  some  of  her  domes 
tic  burdens.  She  had  never  reckoned  upon 
[259] 


THE  HEART   OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

any  other  manner  of  release.  In  fact  her 
youthful  mind  was  not  able  to  contemplate 
the  possibility  of  any  other  manner  of  change. 
But  the  good  women  of  Patsy's  neighbourhood 
were  not  the  ones  to  let  her  remain  in  this 
deplorable  state  of  ignorance.  She  was  to  be 
enlightened  as  to  other  changes  that  might 
take  place  in  her  condition,  and  of  the  un 
speakable  horrors  that  would  transpire  with 
them. 

It  was  upon  the  occasion  that  little  John 
had  taken  it  into  his  infant  head  to  have  the 
German  measles  just  at  the  time  that  Isaac 
was  slowly  recovering  from  the  chicken-pox. 
Patsy  Ann's  powers  had  been  taxed  to  the 
utmost,  and  Mrs.  Caroline  Gibson  had  been 
called  in  from  next  door  to  superintend  the 
brewing  of  the  saffron  tea,  and  for  the  general 
care  of  the  fretful  sufferer. 

To  Patsy  Ann,  then,  in  ominous  tone,  spoke 
this  oracle.  "  Patsy  Ann,  how  yo'  pappy  doin' 
sence  Matildy  died?"  "Matildy"  was  the 
deceased  wife. 

[260] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"Oh,  he  gittin'  'long  all  right.  He  was 
mighty  broke  up  at  de  fus',  but  he  'low  now 
dat  de  house  go  on  de  same's  ef  mammy  was 
a-livinV 

"Oom  huh,"  disdainfully;  "Oom  huh. 
Yo'  mammy  bin  daid  fou'  yeahs,  ain't 
she?" 

"Yes'm;  mighty  nigh." 

"Oom  huh;  fou'  yeahs  is  a  mighty  long 
time  fu'  a  colo'd  man  to  wait;  but  we'n  he  do 
wait  dat  long,  hit's  all  de  wuss  we'n  hit  do 


come." 


"  Pap  bin  wo'kin  right  stiddy  at  de  brick- 
ya'd,"  said  Patsy,  in  loyal  defence  against 
some  vaguely  implied  accusation,  "  an'  he 
done  put  some  money  in  de  bank." 

"Bad  sign,  bad  sign,"  and  Mrs.  Gibson 
gave  her  head  a  fearsome  shake. 

But  just  then  the  shrill  voice  of  little  John 
calling  for  attention  drew  her  away  and  left 
Patsy  Ann  to  herself  and  her  meditations. 

What  could  this  mean? 

When  that  lady  had  finished  ministering  to 
[261] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

the  sick  child  and  returned,  Patsy  Ann  asked 
her,  "  Mis'  Gibson,  what  you  mean  by  sayin' 
1  bad  sign,  bad  sign?': 

Again  the  oracle  shook  her  head  sagely. 
Then  she  answered,  "  Chil',  you  do'  know  de 
dev'ment  dey  is  in  dis  worl'." 

"  But,"  retorted  the  child,  "  my  pappy  ain' 
up  to  no  dev'ment,  'case  he  got  'uligion  an' 
bin  baptised." 

"  Oom-m,"  groaned  Sistah  Gibson,  "  dat 
don'  mek  a  bit  o'  diffunce.  Who  is  any  mo' 
ma'yin'  men  den  de  preachahs  demse'ves? 
W'y  Brothah  'Lias  Scott  done  tempted  mater- 
mony  six  times  a'ready,  an'  's  lookin'  roun'  fu' 
de  sebent,  an'  he's  a  good  man,  too." 

"Ma'yin',"  said  Patsy  breathlessly. 

"Yes,  honey,  ma'yin',  an'  I's  afeared  yo' 
pappy's  got  notions  in  his  haid,  an'  w'en  a 
widower  git  gals  in  his  haid  dey  ain'  no  use 
a-pesterin'  wid  'em,  'case  dey  boun'  to  have 
dey  way." 

"Ma'yin',"  said  Patsy  to  herself  reflec 
tively.  "  Ma'yin'."  She  knew  what  it  meant, 
[262] 


THE   HEART   OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

but  she  had  never  dreamed  of  the  possibility 
of  such  a  thing  in  connection  with  her  father. 
"  Ma'yin',"  and  yet  the  idea  of  it  did  not  seem 
so  very  unalluring. 

She  spoke  her  thoughts  aloud. 

"  But  ef  pap  Vd  ma'y,  Mis'  Gibson,  den  I'd 
git  a  chanct  to  go  to  school.  He  allus  sayin' 
he  mighty  sorry  'bout  me  not  goin'." 

"  Dah  now,  dah  now,"  cried  the  woman, 
casting  a  pitying  glance  at  the  child,  "  dat's 
de  las'  t'ing.  He  des  a  feelin'  roun'  now.  You 
po',  ign'ant,  mothahless  chil'.  You  ain'  nevah 
had  no  step-mothah,  an'  you  don'  know  what 
hit  means." 

"But  she'd  tek  keer  o'  the  chillen,"  per 
sisted  Patsy. 

"  Sich  tekin'  keer  of  'em  ez  hit  'u'd  be. 
She'd  keer  fu'  'em  to  dey  graves.  Nobody 
cain't  tell  me  nuffin  'bout  step-mothahs,  case 
I  knows  'em.  Dey  ain'  no  ooman  goin'  to  tek 
keer  o'  nobody  else's  chile  lak  she'd  tek  keer 
o'  huh  own,"  and  Patsy  felt  a  choking  come 
into  her  throat  and  a  tight  sensation  about  her 
[263] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

heart  while  she  listened  as  Mrs.  Gibson  re 
galed  her  with  all  the  choice  horrors  that  are 
laid  at  the  door  of  step-mothers. 

From  that  hour  on,  one  settled  conviction 
took  shape  and  possessed  Patsy  Ann's  mind; 
never,  if  she  could  help  it,  would  she  run  the 
risk  of  having  a  step-mother.  Come  what 
may,  let  her  be  compelled  to  do  what  she 
might,  let  the  hope  of  school  fade  from  her 
sight  forever  and  a  day — but  no  step-mother 
should  ever  cast  her  baneful  shadow  over 
Patsy  Ann's  home. 

Experience  of  life  had  made  her  wise  for 
her  years,  and  so  for  the  time  she  said  noth 
ing  to  her  father;  but  she  began  to  watch  him 
with  wary  eyes,  his  goings  out  and  his  comings 
in,  and  to  attach  new  importance  to  trifles 
that  had  passed  unnoticed  before  by  her 
childish  mind. 

For  instance,  if  he  greased  or  blacked  his 
boots  before  going  out  of  an  evening  her  sus 
picions  were  immediately  aroused  and  she 
saw  dim  visions  of  her  father  returning,  on  his 

[264] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

arm  the  terrible  ogress  whom  she  had  come  to 
know  by  the  name  of  step-mother. 

Mrs.  Gibson's  poison  had  wrorked  well  and 
rapidly.  She  had  thoroughly  inoculated  the 
child's  mind  with  the  step-mother  virus,  but 
she  had  not  at  the  same  time  made  the  parent 
widow-proof,  a  hard  thing  to  do  at  best.  So 
it  came  to  pass  that  with  a  mysterious  horror 
growing  within  her,  Patsy  Ann  saw  her  father 
black  his  boots  more  and  more  often  and  fare 
forth  o'  nights  and  Sunday  afternoons. 

Finally  her  little  heart  could  contain  its 
sorrow  no  longer,  and  one  night  when  he  was 
later  than  usual  she  could  not  sleep.  So  she 
slipped  out  of  bed,  turned  up  the  light,  and 
waited  for  him,  determined  to  have  it  out, 
then  and  there. 

He  came  at  last  and  was  all  surprise  to  meet 
the  solemn,  round  eyes  of  his  little  daughter 
staring  at  him  from  across  the  table. 

" W'y,  lady  gal,"  he  exclaimed,  "what  you 
doin'  up  at  'his  time?" 

"  I  sat  up  f u'  you.  I  got  somepV  to  ax  you, 
[265] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

pappy."  Her  voice  quivered  and  he  snug 
gled  her  up  in  his  arms. 

"  What's  troublin'  my  little  lady  gal  now? 
Is  de  chillen  bin  bad?" 

She  laid  her  head  close  against  his  big 
breast,  and  the  tears  would  come  as  she  an 
swered,  "No,  suh;  de  chillen  bin  ez  good  az 
good  could  be,  but  oh,  pappy,  pappy,  is  you 
got  gal  in  yo'  haid  an'  a-goin'  to  bring  me  a 
step-mothah?" 

He  held  her  away  from  him  almost  harshly 
and  gazed  at  her  as  he  queried,  "W'y,  you 
po'  baby,  you!  Who's  bin  puttin'  dis  hyeah 
foolishness  in  yo'  haid?"  Then  his  laugh 
rang  out  as  he  patted  her  head  and  drew  her 
close  to  him  again.  "  Ef  yo'  pappy  do  bring 
a  step-mothah  into  dis  house,  Gawd  knows 
he'll  bring  de  right  kin'." 

"  Dey  ain't  no  right  kin',"  answered  Patsy. 

"You  don'  know,  baby;  you  don'  know. 
Go  to  baid  an'  don'  worry." 

He  sat  up  a  long  time  watching  the  candle 
sputter,  then  he  pulled  off  his  boots  and  tip- 
[266] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

toed  to  Patsy's  bedside.  He  leaned  over  her. 
"Po'  little  baby,"  he  said;  "what  do  she 
know  about  a  step-mothah?"  And  Patsy  saw 
him  and  heard  him,  for  she  was  awake  then, 
and  far  into  the  night. 

In  the  eyes  of  the  child  her  father  stood  con 
victed.  He  had  "gal  in  his  haid,"  and  was 
going  to  bring  her  a  step-mother;  but  it  would 
never  be;  her  resolution  was  taken. 

She  arose  early  the  next  morning  and  after 
getting  her  father  off  to  work  as  usual,  she  took 
the  children  into  hand.  First  she  scrubbed 
them  assiduously,  burnishing  their  brown 
faces  until  they  shone  again.  Then  she  tussled 
with  their  refractory  locks,  and  after  that  she 
dressed  them  out  in  all  the  bravery  of  their  best 
clothes. 

Meanwhile  her  tears  were  falling  like  rain, 
though  her  lips  were  shut  tight.  The  children 
off  her  mind,  she  turned  her  attention  to  her 
own  toilet,  which  she  made  with  scrupulous 
care.  Then  taking  a  small  tin-type  of  her 
mother  from  the  bureau  drawer,  she  put  it  in 
[267] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

her  bosom,  and  leading  her  little  brood  she 
went  out  of  the  house,  locking  the  door  behind 
her  and  placing  the  key,  as  was  her  wont, 
under  the  door-step. 

Outside  she  stood  for  a  moment  or  two,  un 
decided,  and  then  with  one  long,  backward 
glance  at  her  home  she  turned  and  went  up 
the  street.  At  the  first  corner  she  paused 
again,  spat  in  her  hand  and  struck  the  watery 
globule  with  her  finger.  In  the  direction  the 
most  of  the  spittle  flew,  she  turned.  Patsy 
Ann  was  fleeing  from  home  and  a  step-mother, 
and  Fate  had  decided  her  direction  for  her, 
even  as  Mrs.  Gibson's  counsels  had  directed 
her  course. 

The  child  had  no  idea  where  she  was  going. 
She  knew  no  one  to  whom  she  might  turn  in 
her  distress.  Not  even  with  Mrs.  Gibson 
would  she  be  safe  from  the  horror  which  im 
pended.  She  had  but  one  impulse  in  her 
mind  and  that  was  to  get  beyond  the  reach  of 
the  terrible  woman,  or  was  it  a  monster?  who 
was  surely  coming  after  her.  On  and  on  she 
[268] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

walked  through  the  town  with  her  little  band 
trudging  bravely  along  beside  her.  People 
turned  to  look  at  the  funny  group  and  smiled 
good-naturedly  as  they  passed,  and  one  man, 
a  little  more  amused  than  the  rest,  shouted 
after  them,  "  Where  you  goin',  sis,  with  that 
orphan's  home?" 

But  Patsy  Ann's  dignity  was  impregnable. 
She  walked  on  with  her  head  in  the  air,  the 
desire  for  safety  tugging  at  her  heart. 

The  hours  passed  and  the  gentle  coolness 
of  morning  turned  into  the  fierce  heat  of  noon, 
and  still  with  frequent  rests  they  trudged  on, 
Patsy  ever  and  anon  using  her  divining  hand, 
unconscious  that  she  was  doubling  and  re 
doubling  on  her  tracks.  When  the  whistles 
blew  for  twelve  she  got  her  little  brood  into 
the  shade  of  a  poplar  tree  and  set  them  down 
to  the  lunch  which,  thoughtful  little  mother 
that  she  was,  she  had  brought  writh  her.  After 
that  they  all  stretched  themselves  out  on  the 
grass  that  bordered  the  sidewalk,  for  all  the 
children  were  tired  out,  and  baby  John  was 
[269] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

both  sleepy  and  cross.  Even  Patsy  Ann 
drowsed  and  finally  dropped  into  the  deep 
slumber  of  childhood.  They  looked  too 
peaceful  and  serene  for  passers-by  to  bother 
them,  and  so  they  slept  and  slept. 

It  was  past  three  o'clock  when  the  little 
guardian  awakened  with  a  start,  and  shook 
her  charges  into  activity.  John  wept  a  little 
at  first,  but  after  a  while  took  up  his  journey 
bravely  with  the  rest. 

She  had  just  turned  into  a  side  street,  dis 
couraged  and  bewildered,  when  the  round 
face  of  a  coloured  woman  standing  in  the 
doorway  of  a  whitewashed  cottage  caught 
her  eye  and  attention.  Once  more  she  paused 
and  consulted  her  watery  oracle,  then  turned 
to  encounter  the  gaze  of  the  round-faced 
woman.  The  oracle  had  spoken  and  she 
turned  into  the  yard. 

"  Whaih  you  goin',  honey?  You  sut'ny  look 
lak  you  plumb  tukahed  out.    Come  in  an'  tell 
me  all  'bout  yo'se'f,  you  po'  little  t'ing.     Dese 
yo'  little  brothas  an'  sistahs?" 
[270] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"  Yes'm,"  said  Patsy  Ann. 

"W'y,  chil',  whaih  you  goin'?" 

"  I  don'  know,"  was  the  truthful  answer. 

"You  don'  know?    Whaih  you  live?" 

"  Oh,  I  live  down  on  Douglas  Street,"  said 
Patsy  Ann,  "  an'  I's  runnin'  away  f  om  home 
an'  my  step-mothah." 

The  woman  looked  keenly  at  her. 

"What  yo'  name?"  she  said. 

"  My  name's  Patsy  Ann  Meriweather." 

"An'  is  yo'  got  a  step-mothah?" 

"No,"  said  Patsy  Ann,  "I  ain'  got  none 
now,  but  I's  sut'ny  'spectin'  one." 

"What  you  know  'bout  step-mothahs, 
honey?" 

"  Mis'  Gibson  tol'  me.  Dey  sho'ly  is  awful, 
missus,  awful." 

"Mis'  Gibson  ain'  tol'  you  right,  honey. 
You  come  in  hyeah  and  set  down.  You  ain' 
nothin'  mo'  dan  a  baby  yo'se'f,  an'  you  ain' 
got  no  right  to  be  trapsein'  roun'  dis  away." 

Have  you  ever  eaten  muffins?  Have  you 
eaten  bacon  with  onions?  Have  you  drunk 
[  271] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

tea?  Have  you  seen  your  little  brother  John 
taken  up  on  a  full  bosom  and  rocked  to  sleep 
in  the  most  motherly  way,  with  the  sweetness 
and  tenderness  that  only  a  mother  can  give? 
Well,  that  was  Patsy  Ann's  case  to-night. 

And  then  she  laid  them  along  like  ten-pins 
crosswise  of  her  bed  and  sat  for  a  long  time 
thinking. 

To  Maria  Adams  about  six  o'clock  that 
night  came  a  troubled  and  disheartened  man. 
It  was  no  less  a  person  than  Patsy  Ann's 
father. 

"Maria!  Maria!  What  shall  I  do?  Some 
body  don'  stole  all  my  chillen." 

Maria,  strange  to  say,  was  a  woman  of  few 
words. 

"Don'  you  bothah  'bout  de  chillen,"  she 
said,  and  she  took  him  by  the  hand  and  led 
him  to  where  the  five  lay  sleeping  calmly 
across  the  bed. 

"  Dey  was  runnin'  f  om  home  an'  dey  step- 
mothah,"  said  she. 

"  Dey  run  hyeah  f'om  a  step-mothah  an' 
[272] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

fourf  a  mothah."  It  was  a  tribute  and  a  pro 
posal  all  in  one. 

When  Patsy  Ann  awakened,  the  matter 
was  explained  to  her,  and  with  penitent  tears 
she  confessed  her  sins. 

"  But,"  she  said  to  Maria  Adams,  "  ef  you's 
de  kin'  of  fo'ks  dat  dey  mek  step-mothahs  out 
o'  I  ain'  gwine  to  bothah  my  haid  no  mo'." 


[273] 


THE      HOME-COMING      OF 
'RASTUS    SMITH 


XV 

THE      HOME-COMING      OF 
'RASTUS    SMITH 


I^M^KIJ,  was  a  great  commotion  in 
that  part  of  town  which  was  known 
as  "  Little  Africa,"  and  the  cause  of 
it  was  not  far  to  seek.  Contrary  to  the  usual 
thing,  this  cause  was  not  an  excursion  down 
the  river,  nor  a  revival,  baptising,  nor  an 
Emancipation  Day  celebration.  None  of 
these  was  it  that  had  aroused  the  denizens  of 
"  Little  Africa,"  and  kept  them  talking  across 
the  street  from  window  to  window,  from  door 
to  door,  through  alley  gates,  over  backyard 
fences,  where  they  stood  loud-mouthed  and 
arms  akimboed  among  laden  clothes  lines. 
No,  the  cause  of  it  all  was  that  Erastus  Smith, 
Aunt  Mandy  Smith's  boy,  who  had  gone  away 
from  home  several  years  before,  and  who, 
rumour  said,  had  become  a  great  man,  was 
coming  back,  and  "  Little  Africa,"  from 
[277] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

Douglass  Street  to  Cat  Alley,  was  prepared  to 
be  dazzled.  So  few  of  those  who  had  been 
born  within  the  mile  radius  which  was  "  Little 
Africa"  went  out  into  the  great  world  and 
came  into  contact  with  the  larger  humanity 
that  when  one  did  he  became  a  man  set  apart. 
And  when,  besides,  he  went  into  a  great  city 
and  worked  for  a  lawyer  whose  name  was 
known  the  country  over,  the  place  of  his  birth 
had  all  the  more  reason  to  feel  proud  of  her 
son. 

So  there  was  much  talk  across  the  dirty 
little  streets,  and  Aunt  Mandy's  small  house 
found  itself  all  of  a  sudden  a  very  popular  re 
sort.  The  old  women  held  Erastus  up  as  an 
example  to  their  sons.  The  old  men  told  what 
they  might  have  done  had  they  had  his  chance. 
The  young  men  cursed  him,  and  the  young 
girls  giggled  and  waited. 

It  was  about  an  hour  before  the  time  of  the 

arrival  of  Erastus,  and  the  neighbours  had 

thinned  out  one  by  one  with  a  delicacy  rather 

surprising  in  them,  in  order  that  the  old  lady 

[278] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

might  be  alone  with  her  boy  for  the  first  few 
minutes.  Only  one  remained  to  help  put  the 
finishing  touches  to  the  two  little  rooms  which 
Mrs.  Smith  called  home,  and  to  the  prepara 
tions  for  the  great  dinner.  The  old  woman 
wiped  her  eyes  as  she  said  to  her  companion, 
"Hit  do  seem  a  speshul  blessin',  Lizy,  dat  I 
been  spaihed  to  see  dat  chile  once  mo'  in  de 
flesh.  He  sholy  was  mighty  nigh  to  my  hea't, 
an'  w'en  he  went  erway,  I  thought  it  'ud  kill 
me.  But  I  kin  see  now  dat  hit  uz  all  fu'  de 
bes'.  Think  o'  'Rastus  comin'  home,  er  big 
man!  Who'd  evah  'specked  dat?" 

"  Law,  Mis'  Smif,  you  sholy  is  got  reason 
to  be  mighty  thankful.  Des'  look  how  many 
young  men  dere  is  in  dis  town  what  ain't  nevah 
been  no  'count  to  dey  pa'ents,  ner  anybody 
else." 

"Well,  it's  onexpected,  Lizy,  an'  hit's 
'spected.  'Rastus  allus  wuz  a  wonnerful  chil', 
an'  de  way  he  tuk  to  work  an'  study  kin'  o' 
promised  something  f'om  de  commencement, 
an'  I  'lowed  mebbe  he  tu'n  out  a  preachah." 
[279] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"Tush!  yo'  kin  thank  yo'  stahs  he  didn't 
tu'n  out  no  preachah.  Preachahs  ain't  no 
bettah  den  anybody  else  dese  days.  Dey  des 
go  roun'  tellin'  dey  lies  an'  eatin'  de  whiders 
an'  orphins  out  o'  house  an'  home." 

"Well,  mebbe  hit's  bes'  he  didn'  tu'n  out 
dat  way.  But  f'om  de  way  he  used  to  stan'  on 
de  chaih  an'  'zort  w'en  he  was  a  little  boy,  I 
thought  hit  was  des  what  he  'ud  tu'n  out.  O' 
co'se,  being'  in  a  law  office  is  des  as  pervidin', 
but  somehow  hit  do  seem  mo'  worl'y." 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  de  preachahs  is  ez 
worldly  ez  anybody  else?" 

"Yes,  yes,  dat's  right,  but  den  'Rastus,  He 
had  de  eddication,  fo'  he  had  gone  thoo  de 
Third  Readah." 

Just  then  the  gate  creaked,  and  a  little 
brown-faced  girl,  with  large,  mild  eyes, 
pushed  open  the  door  and  came  shyly  in." 

"  Hyeah's  some  flowahs,  Mis'  Smif,"  she 
said.  "  I  thought  mebbe  you  might  like  to 
decorate  'Rastus's  room,"  and  she  wiped  the 
confusion  from  her  face  with  her  apron. 

[280] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"  La,  chil',  thankee.  Dese  is  mighty  pu'tty 
posies."  These  were  the  laurels  which  Sally 
Martin  had  brought  to  lay  at  the  feet  of  her 
home-coming  hero.  No  one  in  Cat  Alley  but 
that  queer,  quiet  little  girl  would  have 
thought  of  decorating  anybody's  room  with 
flowers,  but  she  had  peculiar  notions. 

In  the  old  days,  when  they  were  children, 
and  before  Erastus  had  gone  away  to  become 
great,  they  had  gone  up  and  down  together 
along  the  byways  of  their  locality,  and  had 
loved  as  children  love.  Later,  when  Erastus 
began  keeping  company,  it  was  upon  Sally 
that  he  bestowed  his  affections.  No  one,  not 
even  her  mother,  knew  how  she  had  waited 
for  him  all  these  years  that  he  had  been  gone, 
few  in  reality,  but  so  long  and  so  many  to 
her. 

And  now  he  was  coming  home.  She  scorched 
something  in  the  ironing  that  day  because 
tears  of  joy  were  blinding  her  eyes.  Her 
thoughts  were  busy  with  the  meeting  that  was 
to  be.  She  had  a  brand  new  dress  for  the 
[281] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

occasion — a  lawn,  with  dark  blue  dots,  and  a 
blue  sash — and  there  was  a  new  hat,  wonder 
ful  with  the  flowers  of  summer,  and  for  both 
of  them  she  had  spent  her  hard-earned  sav 
ings,  because  she  wished  to  be  radiant  in  the 
eyes  of  the  man  who  loved  her. 

Of  course,  Erastus  had  not  written  her;  but 
he  must  have  been  busy,  and  writing  was  hard 
work.  She  knew  that  herself,  and  realised  it 
all  the  more  as  she  penned  the  loving  little 
scrawls  which  at  first  she  used  to  send  him. 
Now  they  would  not  have  to  do  any  writing 
any  more;  they  could  say  what  they  wanted 
to  each  other.  He  was  coming  home  at  last, 
and  she  had  waited  long. 

They  paint  angels  with  shining  faces  and 
halos,  but  for  real  radiance  one  should  have 
looked  into  the  dark  eyes  of  Sally  as  she  sped 
home  after  her  contribution  to  her  lover's 
reception. 

When  the  last  one  of  the  neighbours  had 
gone  Aunt  Mandy  sat  down  to  rest  herself  and 
to  await  the  great  event.  She  had  not  sat 
[  282] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

there  long  before  the  gate  creaked.  She  arose 
and  hastened  to  the  window.  A  young  man 
was  coming  down  the  path.  Was  that  'Ras- 
tus?  Could  that  be  her  'Rastus,  that  gorgeous 
creature  with  the  shiny  shoes  and  the  nobby 
suit  and  the  carelessly-swung  cane?  But  he 
was  knocking  at  her  door,  and  she  opened  it 
and  took  him  into  her  arms. 

"Why,  howdy,  honey,  howdy;  hit  do  beat 
all  to  see  you  agin,  a  great  big,  grown-up  man. 
You're  lookin'  des'  lak  one  o'  de  big  folks  up 


in  town." 


Erastus  submitted  to  her  endearments  with 
a  somewhat  condescending  grace,  as  who 
should  say,  "Well,  poor  old  fool,  let  her  go 
on  this  time;  she  doesn't  know  any  better." 
He  smiled  superiorly  when  the  old  woman 
wept  glad  tears,  as  mothers  have  a  way  of  do 
ing  over  returned  sons,  however  great  fools 
these  sons  may  be.  She  set  him  down  to  the 
dinner  which  she  had  prepared  for  him,  and 
with  loving  patience  drew  from  his  pompous 
and  reluctant  lips  some  of  the  story  of  his 
[283] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

doings  and  some  little  word  about  the  places 
he  had  seen. 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  said,  crossing  his  legs,  "as 
soon  as  Mr.  Carrington  saw  that  I  was  pretty 
bright,  he  took  me  right  up  and  gave  me  a 
good  job,  and  I  have  been  working  for  him 
right  straight  along  for  seven  years  now.  Of 
course,  it  don't  do  to  let  white  folks  know  all 
you're  thinking;  but  I  have  kept  my  ears  and 
my  eyes  right  open,  and  I  guess  I  know  just 
about  as  much  about  law  as  he  does  himself. 
When  I  save  up  a  little  more  I'm  going  to  put 
on  the  finishing  touches  and  hang  out  my 
shingle." 

"  Don't  you  nevah  think  no  mo'  'bout  bein'  a 
preachah,  'Rastus?"  his  mother  asked. 

"Haw,  haw!  Preachah?  Well,  I  guess 
not;  no  preaching  in  mine;  there's  nothing  in 
it.  In  law  you  always  have  a  chance  to  get 
into  politics  and  be  the  president  if  your  ward 
club  or  something  like  that,  and  from  that  on 
it's  an  easy  matter  to  go  on  up.  You  can  trust 
me  to  know  the  wires."  And  so  the  tenor  of 
[284] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

his  boastful  talk  ran  on,  his  mother  a  little 
bit  awed  and  not  altogether  satisfied  with  the 
new  'Rastus  that  had  returned  to  her. 

He  did  not  stay  in  long  that  evening,  al 
though  his  mother  told  him  some  of  the 
neighbours  were  going  to  drop  in.  He  said 
he  wanted  to  go  about  and  see  something  of 
the  town.  He  paused  just  long  enough  to 
glance  at  the  flowers  in  his  room,  and  to  his 
mother's  remark,  "  Sally  Ma'tin  brung  dem 
in,"  he  returned  answer,  "Who  on  earth  is 
Sally  Martin?" 

"Why,  'Rastus,"  exclaimed  his  mother, 
"does  yo'  'tend  lak  yo'  don't  'member  little 
Sally  Ma'tin  yo'  used  to  go  wid  almos'  f  om 
de  time  you  was  babies?  W'y,  I'm  s'prised 
at  you." 

"  She  has  slipped  my  mind,"  said  the  young 
man. 

For  a  long  while  the  neighbours  who  had 

come  and  Aunt  Mandy  sat  up  to  wait  for 

Erastus,  but  he  did  not  come  in  until  the  last 

one  was  gone.     In  fact,  he  did  not  get  in  until 

[285] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

nearly  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  looking  a 
little  weak,  but  at  least  in  the  best  of  spirits, 
and  he  vouchsafed  to  his  waiting  mother  the 
remark  that  "  the  little  old  town  wasn't  so 
bad,  after  all." 

Aunt  Mandy  preferred  the  request  that  she 
had  had  in  mind  for  some  time,  that  he  would 
go  to  church  the  next  day,  and  he  consented, 
because  his  trunk  had  come. 

It  was  a  glorious  Sunday  morning,  and  the 
old  lady  was  very  proud  in  her  stiff  gingham 
dress  as  she  saw  her  son  come  into  the  room 
arrayed  in  his  long  coat,  shiny  hat,  and  shinier 
shoes.  Well,  if  it  was  true  that  he  was 
changed,  he  was  still  her  'Rastus,  and  a  great 
comfort  to  her.  There  was  no  vanity  about 
the  old  woman,  but  she  paused  before  the  glass 
a  longer  time  than  usual,  settling  her  bonnet 
strings,  for  she  must  look  right,  she  told  her 
self,  to  walk  to  church  with  that  elegant  son 
of  hers.  When  he  was  all  ready,  with  cane  in 
hand,  and  she  was  pausing  with  the  key  in  the 
door,  he  said,  "  Just  walk  on,  mother,  I'll  catch 
[286] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

you  in  a  minute  or  two."  She  went  on  and 
left  him. 

He  did  not  catch  her  that  morning  on  her 
way  to  church,  and  it  was  a  sore  disappoint 
ment,  but  it  was  somewhat  compensated  for 
when  she  saw  him  stalking  into  the  chapel  in 
all  his  glory,  and  every  head  in  the  house 
turned  to  behold  him. 

There  was  one  other  woman  in  "  Little 
Africa"  that  morning  who  stopped  for  a 
longer  time  than  usual  before  her  looking- 
glass  and  who  had  never  found  her  bonnet 
strings  quite  so  refractory  before.  In  spite  of 
the  vexation  of  flowers  that  wouldn't  settle  and 
ribbons  that  wouldn't  tie,  a  very  glad  face 
looked  back  at  Sally  Martin  from  her  little 
mirror.  She  was  going  to  see  'Rastus,  'Rastus 
of  the  old  days  in  which  they  used  to  walk 
hand  in  hand.  He  had  told  her  when  he 
went  away  that  some  day  he  would  come  back 
and  marry  her.  Her  heart  fluttered  hotly 
under  her  dotted  lawn,  and  it  took  another 
application  of  the  chamois  to  take  the  perspi- 
[287] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

ration  from  her  face.  People  had  laughed  at 
her,  but  that  morning  she  would  be  vindicated. 
He  would  walk  home  with  her  before  the 
whole  church.  Already  she  saw  him  bowing 
before  her,  hat  in  hand,  and  heard  the  set 
phrase,  "  May  I  have  the  pleasure  of  your 
company  home?"  and  she  saw  herself  sailing 
away  upon  his  arm. 

She  wras  very  happy  as  she  sat  in  church 
that  morning,  as  happy  as  Mrs.  Smith  herself, 
and  as  proud  when  she  saw  the  object  of  her 
affections  swinging  up  the  aisle  to  the  collec 
tion  table,  and  from  the  ring  she  knew  that  it 
could  not  be  less  than  a  half  dollar  that  he 
put  in. 

There  was  a  special  note  of  praise  in  her 
voice  as  she  joined  in  singing  the  doxology 
that  morning,  and  her  heart  kept  quivering 
and  fluttering  like  a  frightened  bird  as  the 
people  gathered  in  groups,  chattering  and 
shaking  hands,  and  he  drew  nearer  to  her. 
Now  they  were  almost  together;  in  a  moment 
their  eyes  would  meet.  Her  breath  came 
[288] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

quickly;  he  had  looked  at  her,  surely  he  must 
have  seen  her.  His  mother  was  just  behind 
him,  and  he  did  not  speak.  Maybe  she  had 
changed,  maybe  he  had  forgotten  her.  An 
unaccustomed  boldness  took  possession  of  her, 
and  she  determined  that  she  would  not  be 
overlooked.  She  pressed  forward.  She  saw 
his  mother  take  his  arm  and  heard  her  whis 
per,  "  Dere's  Sally  Ma'tin"  this  time,  and  she 
knew  that  he  looked  at  her.  He  bowed  as  if 
to  a  stranger,  and  was  past  her  the  next 
minute.  When  she  saw  him  again  he  was 
swinging  out  of  the  door  between  two  admir 
ing  lines  of  church-goers  who  separated  on 
the  pavement.  There  was  a  brazen  yellow 
girl  on  his  arm. 

She  felt  weak  and  sick  as  she  hid  behind 
the  crowd  as  well  as  she  could,  and  for  that 
morning  she  thanked  God  that  she  was 
small. 

Aunt  Mandy  trudged  home  alone,  and  when 
the  street  was  cleared  and  the  sexton  was  about 
to  lock  up,  the  girl  slipped  out  of  the  church 
[289] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

and  down  to  her  own  little  house.  In  the 
friendly  shelter  of  her  room  she  took  off  her 
gay  attire  and  laid  it  away,  and  then  sat  down 
at  the  window  and  looked  dully  out.  For 
her,  the  light  of  day  had  gone  out. 


[290] 


THE  BOY  AND  THE  BAYONET 


XVI 
THE  BOY  AND  THE  BAYONET 

IT  was  June,  and  nearing  the  closing 
time  of  school.  The  air  was  full  of  the 
sound  of  bustle  and  preparation  for  the 
final  exercises,  field  day,  and  drills.  Drills 
especially,  for  nothing  so  gladdens  the  heart 
of  the  Washington  mother,  be  she  black  or 
white,  as  seeing  her  boy  in  the  blue  cadet's 
uniform,  marching  proudly  to  the  huzzas  of 
an  admiring  crowd.  Then  she  forgets  the 
many  nights  when  he  has  come  in  tired  out 
and  dusty  from  his  practice  drill,  and  feels 
only  the  pride  and  elation  of  the  result. 

Although  Tom  did  all  he  could  outside  of 
study  hours,  there  were  many  days  of  hard 
work  for  Hannah  Davis,  when  her  son  went 
into  the  High  School.  But  she  took  it  upon 
herself  gladly,  since  it  gave  Bud  the  chance 
to  learn,  that  she  wanted  him  to  have.  When, 
[293] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

however,  he  entered  the  Cadet  Corps  it  seemed 
to  her  as  if  the  first  steps  toward  the  fulfilment 
of  all  her  hopes  had  been  made.  It  was  a  hard 
pull  to  her,  getting  the  uniform,  but  Bud 
himself  helped  manfully,  and  when  his 
mother  saw  him  rigged  out  in  all  his  regi 
mentals,  she  felt  that  she  had  not  toiled  in 
vain.  And  in  fact  it  was  worth  all  the 
trouble  and  expense  just  to  see  the  joy  and 
pride  of  "  little  sister,"  who  adored  Bud. 

As  the  time  for  the  competitive  drill  drew 
near  there  was  an  air  of  suppressed  excitement 
about  the  little  house  on  "  D  "  Street,  where 
the  three  lived.  All  day  long  "  little  sister," 
who  was  never  very  well  .and  did  not  go  to 
school,  sat  and  looked  out  of  the  window  on 
the  uninteresting  prospect  of  a  dusty  thorough 
fare  lined  on  either  side  with  dull  red  brick 
houses,  all  of  the  same  ugly  pattern,  inter 
spersed  with  older,  uglier,  and  viler  frame 
shanties.  In  the  evening  Hannah  hurried 
home  to  get  supper  against  the  time  when 
Bud  should  return,  hungry  and  tired  from 
[294] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

his  drilling,  and  the  chore  work  which  fol 
lowed  hard  upon  its  heels. 

Things  were  all  cheerful,  however,  for  as 
they  applied  themselves  to  the  supper,  the  boy, 
with  glowing  face,  would  tell  just  how  his 
company  "  A  "  was  getting  on,  and  what  they 
were  going  to  do  to  companies  "  B  "  and  "  C." 
It  was  not  boasting  so  much  as  the  expression 
of  a  confidence,  founded  upon  the  hard  work 
he  was  doing,  and  Hannah  and  the  "  little  sis 
ter  "  shared  that  with  him. 

The  child  often,  listening  to  her  brother, 
would  clap  her  hands  or  cry,  "Oh,  Bud, 
you're  just  splendid  an'  I  know  you'll  beat 


'em." 


"  If  hard  work'll  beat  'em,  we've  got  'em 
beat,"  Bud  would  reply,  and  Hannah,  to  add 
an  admonitory  check  to  her  own  confidence, 
would  break  in  with,  "Now,  don't  you  be  too 
sho',  son ;  dey  ain't  been  no  man  so  good  dat 
dey  wasn't  somebody  bettah."  But  all  the 
while  her  face  and  manner  were  disputing 
what  her  words  expressed. 
[295] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

The  great  day  came,  and  it  was  a  wonderful 
crowd  of  people  that  packed  the  great  base 
ball  grounds  to  overflowing.  It  seemed  that 
all  of  Washington's  coloured  population  was 
out,  when  there  were  really  only  about  one- 
tenth  of  them  there.  It  was  an  enthusiastic, 
banner-waving,  shouting,  hallooing  crowd. 
Its  component  parts  were  strictly  and  frankly 
partisan,  and  so  separated  themselves  into  sec 
tions  differentiated  by  the  colours  of  the  flags 
they  carried  and  the  ribbons  they  wore.  Side 
yelled  defiance  at  side,  and  party  bantered 
party.  Here  the  blue  and  white  of  Company 
"A"  flaunted  audaciously  on  the  breeze  be 
side  the  very  seats  over  which  the  crimson  and 
gray  of  "  B  "  were  flying,  and  these  in  their 
turn  nodded  defiance  over  the  imaginary  bar 
rier  between  themselves  and  "  Cs "  black  and 
yellow. 

The  band  was  thundering  out  "  Sousa's 
High  School  Cadet's  March,"  the  school  offi 
cials,  the  judges,  and  reporters,  and  some 
with  less  purpose  were  bustling  about,  dis- 
[296] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

cussing  and  conferring.  Altogether  doing 
nothing  much  with  beautiful  unanimity.  All 
was  noise,  hurry,  gaiety,  and  turbulence.  In 
the  midst  of  it  all,  with  blue  and  white  rosettes 
pinned  on  their  breasts,  sat  two  spectators, 
tense  and  silent,  while  the  breakers  of  move 
ment  and  sound  struck  and  broke  around 
them.  It  meant  too  much  to  Hannah  and 
" little  sister"  for  them  to  laugh  and  shout. 
Bud  was  with  Company  "A, "  and  so  the 
whole  programme  was  more  like  a  religious 
ceremonial  to  them.  The  blare  of  the  brass 
to  them  might  have  been  the  trumpet  call  to 
battle  in  old  Judea,  and  the  far-thrown  tones 
of  the  megaphone  the  voice  of  a  prophet  pro 
claiming  from  the  hill-top. 

Hannah's  face  glowed  with  expectation, 
and  " little  sister"  sat  very  still  and  held  her 
mother's  hand  save  when  amid  a  burst  of 
cheers  Company  "A"  swept  into  the  parade 
ground  at  a  quick  step,  then  she  sprang  up, 
crying  shrilly,  "  There's  Bud,  there's  Bud,  I 
see  him,"  and  then  settled  back  into  her  seat 
[297] 


THE  HEXRT  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

overcome  with  embarrassment.  The  mother's 
eyes  danced  as  soon  as  the  sister's  had  singled 
out  their  dear  one  from  the  midst  of  the  blue- 
coated  boys,  and  it  was  an  effort  for  her  to 
keep  from  following  her  little  daughter's  ex 
ample  even  to  echoing  her  words. 

Company  "A"  came  swinging  down  the 
field  toward  the  judges  in  a  manner  that  called 
for  more  enthusiastic  huzzas  that  carried  even 
the  Freshman  of  other  commands  "off  their 
feet."  They  were,  indeed,  a  set  of  fine-looking 
young  fellows,  brisk,  straight,  and  soldierly  in 
bearing.  Their  captain  was  proud  of  them,  and 
his  very  step  showed  it.  He  was  like  a  skilled 
operator  pressing  the  key  of  some  great 
mechanism,  and  at  his  command  they  moved 
like  clockwork.  Seen  from  the  side  it  was  as 
if  they  were  all  bound  together  by  inflex 
ible  iron  bars,  and  as  the  end  man  moved  all 
must  move  with  him.  The  crowd  was  full  of 
exclamations  of  praise  and  admiration,  but  a 
tense  quiet  enveloped  them  as  Company  "  A" 
came  from  columns  of  four  into  line  for  volley 
[298] 


THE  PIE  ART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

firing.  This  was  a  real  test;  it  meant  not  only 
grace  and  precision  of  movement,  singleness 
of  attention  and  steadiness,  but  quickness  tem 
pered  by  self-control.  At  the  command  the 
volley  rang  forth  like  a  single  shot.  This  was 
again  the  signal  for  wild  cheering  and  the 
blue  and  white  streamers  kissed  the  sunlight 
with  swift  impulsive  kisses.  Hannah  and 
Little  Sister  drew  closer  together  and  pressed 
hands. 

The  "  A"  adherents,  however,  were  consid 
erably  cooled  when  the  next  volley  came  out, 
badly  scattering,  with  one  shot  entirely  apart 
and  before  the  rest.  Bud's  mother  did  not  en 
tirely  understand  the  sudden  quieting  of  the 
adherents;  they  felt  vaguely  that  all  was  not 
as  it  should  be,  and  the  chill  of  fear  laid  hold 
upon  their  hearts.  What  if  Bud's  company, 
(it  was  always  Bud's  company  to  them),  what 
if  his  company  should  lose.  But,  of  course, 
that  couldn't  be.  Bud  himself  had  said  that 
they  would  win.  Suppose,  though,  they 
didn't;  and  with  these  thoughts  they  were  mis- 
[299] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

erable  until  the  cheering  again  told  them  that 
the  company  had  redeemed  itself. 

Someone  behind  Hannah  said,  "They  are 
doing  splendidly,  they'll  win,  they'll  win  yet 
in  spite  of  the  second  volley." 

Company  "  A  ",  in  columns  of  fours,  had  ex 
ecuted  the  right  oblique  in  double  time,  and 
halted  amid  cheers;  then  formed  left  halt  into 
line  without  halting.  The  next  movement 
was  one  looked  forward  to  with  much  anxiety 
on  account  of  its  difficulty.  The  order  was 
marching  by  fours  to  fix  or  unfix  bayonets. 
They  were  going  at  a  quick  step,  but  the  boys' 
hands  were  steady — hope  was  bright  in  their 
hearts.  They  were  doing  it  rapidly  and 
freely,  when  suddenly  from  the  ranks  there 
was  the  bright  gleam  of  steel  lower  down  than 
it  should  have  been.  A  gasp  broke  from  the 
breasts  of  Company  "  A's "  friends.  The  blue 
and  white  drooped  disconsolately,  while  a  few 
heartless  ones  who  wore  other  colours  at 
tempted  to  hiss.  Someone  had  dropped  his 
bayonet.  But  with  muscles  unquivering, 
[300] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

without  a  turned  head,  the  company  moved 
on  as  if  nothing  had  happened,  while  one  of 
the  judges,  an  army  officer,  stepped  into  the 
wake  of  the  boys  and  picked  up  the  fallen 
steel. 

No  two  eyes  had  seen  half  so  quickly  as 
Hannah  and  Little  Sister's  who  the  blunderer 
was.  In  the  whole  drill  there  had  been  but 
one  figure  for  them,  and  that  was  Bud,  Bud, 
and  it  was  he  who  had  dropped  his  bayonet. 
Anxious,  nervous  with  the  desire  to  please 
them,  perhaps  with  a  shade  too  much  of 
thought  of  them  looking  on  with  their  hearts 
in  their  eyes,  he  had  fumbled,  and  lost  all 
that  he  was  striving  for.  His  head  went  round 
and  round  and  all  seemed  black  before  him. 

He  executed  the  movements  in  a  dazed  way. 
The  applause,  generous  and  sympathetic,  as 
his  company  left  the  parade  ground,  came  to 
him  from  afar  off,  and  like  a  wounded  animal 
he  crept  away  from  his  comrades,  not  because 
their  reproaches  stung  him,  for  he  did  not 
hear  them,  but  because  he  wanted  to  think 
.[301! 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

what  his  mother  and  "Little  Sister"  would 
say,  but  his  misery  was  as  nothing  to  that  of 
the  two  who  sat  up  there  amid  the  ranks  of 
the  blue  and  white  holding  each  other's  hands 
with  a  despairing  grip.  To  Bud  all  of  the 
rest  of  the  contest  was  a  horrid  nightmare ;  he 
hardly  knew  when  the  three  companies  were 
marched  back  to  receive  the  judges'  decision. 
The  applause  that  greeted  Company  "  B " 
when  the  blue  ribbons  were  pinned  on  the 
members'  coats  meant  nothing  to  his  ears.  He 
had  disgraced  himself  and  his  company.  What 
would  his  mother  and  his  "  Little  Sister"  say? 
To  Hannah  and  "  Little  Sister,"  as  to  Bud, 
all  of  the  remainder  of  the  drill  was  a  misery. 
The  one  interest  they  had  had  in  it  failed,  and 
not  even  the  dropping  of  his  gun  by  one  of 
Company  "  E  "  when  on  the  march,  halting  in 
line,  could  raise  their  spirits.  The  little  girl 
tried  to  be  brave,  but  when  it  was  all  over  she 
was  glad  to  hurry  out  before  the  crowd  got 
started  and  to  hasten  away  home.  Once  there 
and  her  tears  flowed  freely;  she  hid  her  face 
[302] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

in  her  mother's  dress,  and  sobbed  as  if  her 
heart  would  break. 

"  Don't  cry,  Baby!  don't  cry,  Lammie,  dis 
ain't  da  las'  time  da  wah  goin'  to  be  a  drill. 
Bud  '11  have  a  chance  anotha  time  and  den 
he'll  show  'em  somethin';  bless  you,  I  spec' 
he'll  be  a  captain."  But  this  consolation  of 
philosophy  was  nothing  to  "  Little  Sister."  It 
was  so  terrible  to  her,  this  failure  of  Bud's. 
She  couldn't  blame  him,  she  couldn't  blame 
anyone  else,  and  she  had  not  yet  learned  to  lay 
all  such  unfathomed  catastrophes  at  the  door 
of  fate.  What  to  her  was  the  thought  of  an 
other  day;  what  did  it  matter  to  her  whether 
he  was  a  captain  or  a  private?  She  didn't 
even  know  the  meaning  of  the  words,  but 
"  Little  Sister,"  from  the  time  she  knew  Bud 
was  a  private,  that  that  was  much  better  than 
being  captain  or  any  of  those  other  things 
with  a  long  name,  so  that  settled  it. 

Her  mother  finally  set  about  getting  the 
supper,  while  "  Little  Sister"  drooped  discon 
solately  in  her  own  little  splint-bottomed  chair. 
[303] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

She  sat  there  weeping  silently  until  she  heard 
the  sound  of  Bud's  step,  then  she  sprang  up 
and  ran  away  to  hide.  She  didn't  dare  to  face 
him  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  Bud  came  in 
without  a  word  and  sat  down  in  the  dark  front 
room. 

"Dat  you,  Bud?"  asked  his  mother. 

"Yassum." 

"  Bettah  come  now,  supper's  puty  'nigh 
ready." 

"  I  don'  want  no  supper." 

"You  bettah  come  on,  Bud,  I  reckon  you 
mighty  tired." 

He  did  not  reply,  but  just  then  a  pair  of 
thin  arms  were  put  around  his  neck  and  a  soft 
cheek  was  placed  close  to  his  own. 

"  Come  on,  Buddie,"  whispered  "  Little 
Sister,"  "Mammy  an'  me  know  you  didn't 
mean  to  do  it,  an'  we  don'  keer." 

Bud  threw  his  arms  around  his  little  sister 
and  held  her  tightly. 

"  It's  only  you  an'  ma  I  care  about,"  he  said, 
u  though  I  am  sorry  I  spoiled  the  company's 
[304] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

drill ;  they  say  "  B  "  would  have  won  anyway 
on  account  of  our  bad  firing,  but  I  did  want 
you  and  ma  to  be  proud." 

"We  is  proud,"  she  whispered,  "we's  mos' 
prouder  dan  if  you'd  won,"  and  pretty  soon 
she  led  him  by  the  hand  out  to  supper. 

Hannah  did  all  she  could  to  cheer  the  boy 
and  to  encourage  him  to  hope  for  next  year, 
but  he  had  little  to  say  in  reply,  and  went  to 
bed  early. 

In  the  morning,  though  it  neared  school 
time,  Bud  lingered  around  and  seemed  in  no 
disposition  to  get  ready  to  go. 

"  Bettah  git  ready  fer  school,"  said  Hannah 
cheerily  to  him. 

"  I  don't  believe  I  want  to  go  any  more," 
Bud  replied. 

"  Not  go  any  more?  Why  ain't  you  shamed 
to  talk  that  way!  O'  cose  you  a  goin'  to  school." 

"  I'm  ashamed  to  show  my  face  to  the  boys." 

"What  you  say  about  de  boys?  De  boys 
ain't  a-goin'  to  give  you  no  edgication  when 
you  need  it." 

[305] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"Oh,  I  don't  want  to  go,  ma;  you  don't 
know  how  I  feel." 

"  I'm  kinder  sorry  I  let  you  go  into  dat  com 
pany,"  said  Hannah  musingly;  "  'cause  it  was 
de  teachin'  I  wanted  you  to  git,  not  de  prancin' 
and  steppin';  but  I  did  t'ink  it  would  make 
mo'  of  a  man  of  you,  an'  it  ain't.  Yo'  pappy 
was  a  po'  man,  ha'd  wo'kin',  an'  he  wasn't  high- 
toned  neither,  but  from  the  time  I  first  see  him 
to  the  day  of  his  death  I  nevah  seen  him  back 
down  because  he  was  afeared  of  anything," 
and  Hannah  turned  to  her  work. 

"  Little  Sister  "  went  up  to  Bud  and  slipped 
her  hand  in  his.  "  You  ain't  a-goin'  to  back 
down,  is  you,  Buddie?"  she  said. 

"No,"  said  Bud  stoutly,  as  he  braced  his 
shoulders,  "  I'm  a-goin'." 

But  no  persuasion  could  make  him  wear  his 
uniform. 

The  boys  were  a  little  cold  to  him,  and  some 

were  brutal.    But  most  of  them  recognised  the 

fact  that  what  had  happened  to  Tom  Harris 

might  have  happened  to  any  one  of  them. 

[306] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

Besides,  since  the  percentage  had  been  shown, 
it  was  found  that  "  B  "  had  outpointed  them  in 
many  ways,  and  so  their  loss  was  not  due  to 
the  one  grave  error.  Bud's  heart  sank  when 
he  dropped  into  his  seat  in  the  Assembly  Hall 
to  find  seated  on  the  platform  one  of  the  blue- 
coated  officers  who  had  acted  as  judge  the  day 
before.  After  the  opening  exercises  were 
over  he  was  called  upon  to  address  the  school. 
He  spoke  readily  and  pleasantly,  laying 
especial  stress  upon  the  value  of  discipline;  to 
ward  the  end  of  his  address  he  said :  "  I  sup 
pose  Company  '  A '  is  heaping  accusations  upon 
the  head  of  the  young  man  who  dropped  his 
bayonet  yesterday."  Tom  could  have  died. 
"  It  was  most  regrettable,"  the  officer  con 
tinued,  "  but  to  me  the  most  significant  thing 
at  the  drill  wras  the  conduct  of  that  cadet  after 
ward.  I  saw  the  whole  proceeding;  I  saw 
that  he  did  not  pause  for  an  instant,  that  he  did 
not  even  turn  his  head,  and  it  appeared  to  me 
as  one  of  the  finest  bits  of  self-control  I  had 
ever  seen  in  any  youth ;  had  he  forgotten  him- 
[307] 


THE  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

self  for  a  moment  and  stopped,  however 
quickly,  to  secure  the  weapon,  the  next  line 
would  have  been  interfered  with  and  your 
whole  movement  thrown  into  confusion." 
There  were  a  half  hundred  eyes  glancing  fur 
tively  at  Bud,  and  the  light  began  to  dawn  in 
his  face.  "This  boy  has  shown  what  disci 
pline  means,  and  I  for  one  want  to  shake  hands 
with  him,  if  he  is  here." 

When  he  had  concluded  the  Principal 
called  Bud  forward,  and  the  boys,  even  his 
detractors,  cheered  as  the  officer  took  his  hand. 

"Why  are  you  not  in  uniform,  sir?"  he 
asked. 

"  I  was  ashamed  to  wear  it  after  yesterday," 
was  the  reply. 

"  Don't  be  ashamed  to  wear  your  uniform," 
the  officer  said  to  him,  and  Bud  could  have 
fallen  on  his  knees  and  thanked  him. 

There  were  no  more  jeers  from  his  com 
rades  now,  and  when  he  related  it  all  at  home 
that   evening   there   were   two   more    happy 
hearts  in  that  South  Washington  cottage. 
[308] 


A  HEART  OF  HAPPY  HOLLOW 

"  I  told  you  we  was  more  prouder  dan  if 
you'd  won,"  said  "  Little  Sister." 

"An'  what  did  I  tell  you  'bout  backin' 
out?"  asked  his  mother. 

Bud  was  too  happy  and  too  busy  to  answer; 
he  was  brushing  his  uniform. 


THE    END 


309] 


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